AN: Hello! No you're not seeing things, this is a new chapter for the stories. Sorry about the long absence but my muse hadn't been feeling Criminal Minds stories for awhile. I'm hoping to reread the chapters I have written for this story and start working on it again though. In the meantime, I figured I'd post one of the chapters that I already had written and my beta had edited for me, so for your reading pleasure, her is chapter 12.
As the clock hands crept passed midnight, most of the offices and rooms in the station were dark. Those officers who were on duty were gathered in the central area of the station, passing time while listening to the radio traffic of the officers out on the streets. As Morgan made his way through the station toward the only conference room with the lights on, those officers looked up briefly, noted his return and went back to what they had been doing. Other than the initial inquiry of possible needed assistance when the BAU agents had arrived a couple hours earlier, the local officers had kept to themselves.
Reaching the conference room door, which he had left slightly ajar when he had left on his coffee run, Morgan used his foot to push the door open the rest of the way.
"The official fuel of the BAU has arrived," Morgan quipped as he approached the table and placed the two carriers holding the six cups of coffee down on the table. He immediately began distributing them to their rightful owners by checking the initials he had written on each cup.
"You're just in time too," Nichols commented, as he accepted his cup of black coffee with only one sugar in it from Morgan. "I just got the results from the facial recognition search back. We've got three possibilities," Nichols informed them as Morgan continued to hand out coffees.
"Let's have them," Gideon replied.
Nichols hit a button on his laptop, and the information on his computer screen appeared on the projection screen hanging on the wall next to him.
"First hit, with only an eighty percent recognition match is Bruno Lopez. Other than some minor traffic violations, there is no record of issues with the law. His employment records show that he works here in the city, but his home address is about twenty minutes outside city limits."
Nichols brought up the picture of the next possible match. "Miguel Lantree, twenty-five works as a paralegal for Smith and Leonard. He's a resident of Kansas City, Missouri and was born here. His percentage match is ninety percent and his past hasn't exactly been all sunshine and roses. His parents got divorced when Miguel was two. This left his mother, Rose, to raise Miguel and his younger sister Lily on her own. From Rose Lantree's police record, I gather that she made some of her money through prostitution as she was picked up for it on several occasions, causing the two kids to be placed in foster homes temporarily. She is currently doing time for involuntary manslaughter of a business man, who is suspected to have been a customer but no proof to the fact can be found. The business man died of his injuries suffered from an attack by Rose Lantree a week after the incident. The sister, Lily was killed a little over a year ago. She was found down by the river, having apparently been raped and then beaten to death. Lily Lantree's death was officially ruled an unsolved murder three weeks before the death of our first victim."
"Do you have a picture of Lily Lantree?" Hotch asked.
"Yes," Nichols said, using his mouse to open another file. A picture of a young girl with long, curly light brown hair popped up on the screen.
"She doesn't resemble the victims," Hudson replied. "Somehow, I find it hard to believe this guy would go around killing other young women, other people's sisters, over grief for his sister. I mean, I know grief can cause people to do strange things, but that seems a bit of a stretch to me," he continued in justification of his opinion.
"I agree with you," Nichols replied, the tone of his voice telling the other agents that the computer specialist had more information to reveal. "However, I found a picture of the mother prior to her last arrest when Miguel was nineteen."
Another picture popped up over top of Lily's. This one showed a woman with shoulder length black hair.
"What if Lily's death wasn't actually a rape? What if, like her mother, Lily was involved in prostitution and a session with a customer went bad resulting in her death?" Nichols suggested, looking away from his computer screen and down the table at his fellow agents to see their reaction to his theory.
"In that case, it's possible that Miguel blames his mother for Lily's death," Hotch said catching on to where Nichols was going with his theory. "If they both grew up seeing their mother's lifestyle, then Lily possibly grew up to see prostitution as okay."
"If that's the case, chances are he sees what he is doing as ridding the world of women who could corrupt younger girls, like his sister was corrupted," Morgan added.
"Who's the third person who came up?" Gideon asked, Though he agreed that Miguel Lantree was a person they should investigate further, he didn't want his team to get hung up on him and not even consider the last person.
"The third match was Martin Crighton," Nichols answered, quickly changing the picture on the screen to show the next suspect. "The facial recognition percentage on him is only slightly higher at ninety-one percent, but he does have a police record. He was arrested for assault on his girlfriend at his senior prom. The girlfriend refused to press charges though so he never did time. Two years ago, he was arrested and charged with battery on his wife. He's currently out on probation and currently living with his wife."
"I'll never understand why some women just don't seem to learn," Morgan commented.
"There are several reasons why women in abusive relationships keep going back to the same guy, time after time," Reid commented.
"Reasons which we can discuss later," Hotch commented, trying to head off a Reid tangent before it got started. "Right now we need to focus on which of these three are more likely to be our UnSub."
"Miguel is the only one of the three with known links to prostitution, which is one of the things that link all of the victims to one another," Hudson commented.
"And his mother does bear a resemblance to our victims as well," Morgan added.
Gideon nodded. He couldn't argue with either one of the arguments put forth for support for Miguel Lantree being good for the string of murders they were investigating. He looked in Hotch's direction, and easily read the silent agreement in the other man's face.
"Let's go pay a visit to Miguel Lantree," Gideon said as he got to his feet, cell phone in hand. Despite the early hour, he planned on giving Detective Franklin the opportunity to join them.
With a scraping of chair legs against the floor, the rest of the profilers followed suit. With coffee cups still in hand, the agents headed out of the station and were off to face their potential UnSub.
As the jet carrying the BAU profilers lifted off the tarmac, Spencer Reid looked to the east where the sun was slowly rising higher above the horizon. Despite the lack of sleep the night before, every last agent on the jet had opted for not waiting to fly home. Though he didn't know what his teammates reasoning for the decision were, though he could make an educated guess on a couple of them, for Spencer Reid he just wanted to put as much distance between Kansas City as he could despite the successful outcome of their case.
As the plane leveled out, Spencer looked from the view outside the window. His gaze rested briefly on Nichols who sat across from him. With his head resting against the window, the computer specialist had already drifted off to sleep, something that Reid knew he wouldn't be able to do right now as the young genius felt too keyed up. Instead, he let his gaze drift down to the blank page in front of him. Though he usually wrote the letter to his mother at the end of his day, the young genius figured he would write it now. Despite it being early in the day, Spencer knew he could still find quite a bit to write to his mother about. Definitely more than he had written yesterday.
Dear Mom,
Sitting on the jet, staring at the sun rising in the east, I still haven't decided which time of the day or what kind of weather I like flying in best. Each has its own charms. Take this morning for example. The rising sun in the east is like a beacon home. On other occasions, I have seen the most fantastic sunsets through these small windows. Seeing the clouds from above instead of below, whether they're white and fluffy, or grey and terrifying, it gives one a whole new perspective on a phenomenon that we all take for granted. Or the lights twinkling below late at night always seem to me to be a source of hope in an otherwise dark world.
As you have probably guessed by now, despite the lack of progress on the case when I wrote last night, we're heading home this morning. As they have the tendency of doing, once we got the break that we needed things started happening fast. The bad thing was that another woman had to die to provide us with that break we needed. It was at the fresh crime scene, and the fact that the UnSub's routine was disrupted that led Nichols to being able to identify the last guy we had seen in a security tape with one of the victims.
It turns out that he was indeed our UnSub, and as with a lot of the killers we chase his past was complicated and far from cheerful. Still, it's hard to understand how some people can endure so much stuff and just come through the ordeal stronger, while others take their pain and aggression out on others. Is it something in our genetic code or simply a choice that we make? Perhaps if we as a society could answer that question then my job wouldn't be necessary. I'm not sure what I would do in that case, but I'm sure I would figure out some place that my talents would be put to good use. Until then though, I guess my teammates and I will continue to do what we do.
As he continued to write the letter, Reid found himself thinking about the events of the night before. Reaching the apartment building that Miguel Lantree lived in, Gideon had sent Morgan and Hudson down one alley and Nichols and Hotch down the other in case Lantree decided to make a run for it. Meanwhile, Reid had followed Gideon and Detective Franklin into the building and up to Lantree's apartment. Gideon's precaution of stationing agents outside of the building proved to be necessary as upon hearing the knock at the door, Lantree had attempted to flee via the fire escape where Morgan and Hudson had been waiting for him.
Between Lantree trying to run and the fact that a coat with blood, which turned out to be Marie's Suttons, was found in the suspect's livingroom, the case was effectively closed. After turning the case back over to the local law enforcement, the profilers were free to return home.
Reid felt the relief he did when they closed all cases along with the curiosity of what the next case might hold for them.
Across the aisle, and a bit forward of where Reid was writing his letter, Gideon and Hotch sat across the table from one another. Both had paperwork pertaining to the case open in front of them - Hotch simply to stay busy and Gideon because he knew that more paperwork awaited him back at Quantico.
"So how did the conversation with Strauss go?" Hotch asked, laying his pen down on the table as he looked across the table at Gideon.
"About how they typically go," Gideon commented casually, as he continued to work on his report.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Hotch replied, still waiting for an explanation. "Did your little ruse work or did she see through it as easily as Nichols?"
"Oh, I have no doubt she knows it was a ruse," Gideon replied, finally looking up from the form he was filling out. "The trouble is getting proof to back-up her theory. Right now, if I claim my blunder with the media was due to having too many things to do, she'll have a hard time contradicting me. So, yes it worked. I'm expecting to have the official go ahead to start interviewing candidates for a media liaison position within the next day or so."
A smile came to Hotch's face. "It's only going to give her more reason to make your life difficult, you know that don't you?"
Gideon waved a hand dismissively. "I can handle Strauss. It's this team that concerns me, and though we're managing for now, the work load for everyone is getting heavier and heavier. We need a media liaison to take off some of the pressure."
Hotch nodded in agreement. "You do realize though that adding another team member just added to things that you need to do."
"No," Gideon replied slowly, looking across the table at the younger agent while wearing a sly smile. "It's going to add to the things that you need to do. You made the proposal, I think you should follow through and be the one to interview the candidates."
"You want me to choose and hire the new Media Liaison?" Hotch asked incredulously. Though Gideon had sought his opinion out with some of the other team openings, the unit chief had always kept the final say for himself.
"Why not?" Gideon said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I'd like to think that one day you'll take this team over from me. I'd like to know for sure that I'm leaving it in capable hands," the older agent replied. He let his gaze shift from Hotch to where Reid was still bent over his letter. "Besides, you did a good job with finding the most recent addition to the team."
Hotch turned his head to follow Gideon's gaze. "I just happened to be in the right place at the right time," he said, as he shifted his gaze back to Gideon. "Let me know when it's official and I'll get to work setting up interviews," Hotch said, more than willing to take on the latest challenge that Gideon had put forth.
"Will do," Gideon replied. "Although my plan for when we get back is to drop off these reports and head on home like the rest of them. I want to get some sleep after our adventure last night," he said, as he bent his head back over the form he had been working on.
"I'll believe that when I see it," Hotch muttered even as he picked up the pen he had placed on the table. He fully expected that Gideon would put a few hours in at the office before heading home tonight despite having given the team the rest of the day off when they landed.
As it was clear that Gideon wanted to get work done, Hotch returned to the paperwork he had been working on himself. It would be nice to head home when they landed and spend some time with Haley. Tomorrow he would be able to start figuring out what kind of questions he'd need to ask to determine who would be a good fit for a media liaison for the team. He knew he had been trusted with an important task and he wanted to make sure he picked the right person for the job and not someone who would disrupt the dynamics of the team.
On the bench seat near the back of the cabin, Morgan and Hudson both slouched as they sat with their heads back and feet stretched out in front of them. Despite the ear buds he already wore, playing the music which helped him to relax, Morgan was still aware of Hudson reaching up and rubbing his chin.
"You probably should have iced that," Morgan commented. "He clocked you pretty good last night."
"I'm fine," Hudson muttered, dropping his hand from his chin even as he raised his other hand. He had already opened the mystery he was currently reading, though he hadn't begun to read it.
"You really need to learn to duck better," Morgan replied, still not looking over at his friend, although he did reach up to remove the left ear bud so that he could hear Hudson better.
"So, you're telling me that if you had actually moved fast enough to be in front of me last night, that Lantree wouldn't have landed a punch on you?" Hudson asked, glancing over at the other profiler.
"Exactly, because I would have been fast enough to duck."
"I was expecting him to run as soon as he jumped off that fire escape, not turn around and throw a punch," Hudson countered, his hand going subconsciously to rub his chin again.
The movement caught Morgan's attention and the Chicago native's attention and he looked to his left. "Man, you've already got a nice bruise there," Morgan commented, his tone serious now instead of kidding. "Maybe you should've gotten that looked at like Gideon suggested."
"It wasn't necessary," Hudson replied, letting his hand drop again. Quite frankly, he just hated going to doctors. Even more so since he had gone to see his father before Christmas. "It's not like the guy shot me. Give it a couple of weeks and you won't even know a bruise was ever there. Meanwhile, it should get me sympathy points with the women, don't you think?"
Morgan laughed. "I think that depends on what story you tell."
"Oh, I was thinking somewhere along the lines of my partner went to punch a suspect we were trying to subdue, missed and hit me instead," Hudson replied trying to sound casual about it despite the sly look that had crept onto his face.
"And once again in that scenario, all I can say is, you should've ducked," Morgan replied easily, not letting Hudson's teasing get to him.
"Yep, definitely need to get some sympathy from the girls because I'm not getting an ounce of it from my partner," Hudson commented as he turned his attention to the book still in his hand.
"It's just not my style," Morgan replied, his smile not having faded at all.
"Sympathy doesn't seem to be anyone's strong suit on this team. Maybe we need a female on this team to remedy that."
"Yeah, preferably one that can kick your butt at hand-to-hand, right," Morgan quipped without missing a beat.
The comment earned him a playful punched on the arm from Hudson. "I thought we agreed not to bring that up again?"
"No, you told me you didn't want me to bring it up again," Morgan countered. "I never agreed to anything."
"Obviously," Hudson muttered, once again turning his attention back to the book. "I'm going to lose myself in a fictional mystery now so can I have some peace and quiet, please?"
"You always predict the ending of those things before you reach the end of them," Morgan commented pointing to the book in Hudson's hands. "Why do you even bother? Personally, I enjoy a story that I can't predict."
"Because for me, that's the fun. Can I figure out where the author is going with the story before I reach the end?"
"You've got a strange outlook on fun," Morgan replied, shaking his head.
"I can say the same thing about your taste in music," Hudson countered, pointing to the ear bud resting over Morgan's left shoulder. "So why don't you go back to listening to what you claim is music and I'll go back to my predictable story."
"I will," Morgan replied, plucking the ear bud off his shoulder and placing it back into his ear. Leaning his head back, Morgan crossed his arms, and closed his eyes trying to push everything out of his mind except for the music.