Chapter 13: Right on Target
"James Mason is our Unsub, he's a disabled man in his mid-fifties who grew up in this town being told stories about the scientists who were part of project firefly, and their families. It was, basically, the classic fear of the Cold War, that these men were selling American secrets to the Soviet Union, using their wives, all of whom were either born or raised in Eastern Europe, or at least were the children of immigrants from that part of the world. That… actually wasn't all that unusual for the time period, which is why there was an actual committee formed to determine which accusations of treason and/or espionage were real and which ones were either paranoia or neighbors trying to make each other's lives miserable." Reid explained, he paused to gauge whether he was rambling as he sometimes did, and whether or not the others believed what he was saying. As he carefully gauged their expressions he determined that they were still on track with him so he continued. "Most people who grew up in this environment would be just a little paranoid, but according to public record, James Mason was on a whole other level. He filed numerous complaints against all the victims stating that each one was going to kill him, he also seems, according to a police report from 1978, to think that Project Firefly was meant to design a super virus that would turn everyone it infected into a mindless flesh eating killing machine… He also works for the hospital in the next town over, which gives him access to a whole host of drugs that could easily have been what killed our victims…"
"So basically this guy is crazy and thinks that the stories his dad told him about his co-workers are actually true…" Morgan said.
"So first he poisoned them, but they all killed themselves to try to keep their families safe by stopping them from asking too many questions…" JJ added.
"Exactly, but one of them must have found out what really happened and the others were somehow aware of it…" Reid replied.
"And if this man was aware that these women knew what he had done to their husbands he would be more mistrusting of them than ever…" Hotch added.
"He killed them because he thought that they were going to kill him or worse, so he took a preemptive strike to protect himself from a threat that wasn't there…" Rossi concluded.
"The question is, does he have any more targets?" JJ asked.
Reid was about to answer but Sheriff Conwell beat him to it.
"We have a 911 call dialed from a landline at the home of Ewa Rodgers, she's the right age, there's the sound of a muffled struggle in the background and she isn't verbally responding to the operator…" He told them.
"We're on our way." Hotch replied. "It's time to end this, let's go guys…" He commanded.
Five minutes later, they were at the home of Ewa Rodgers. It was a large, old, two-story, wooden farmhouse, painted white with grass-green shudders on the windows. The door was already busted down, they went inside and spread out, clearing each room on the first floor. The living room and kitchen had broken lamps and plates, even table legs which had apparently been used as weapons, shown by the blood they found on some of them, but they couldn't tell for sure whether Mason had used these things to subdue her, or Ewa had used them to defend herself and had some success.
There didn't seem to be any sign of either of them, anywhere in the house, until finally, Morgan and Reid went to open and clear a small, walk in closet in the upstairs hallway.
Morgan but his hand on the doorknob, Reid stood off to the side with his gun at the ready if the unsub turned out to be inside. Morgan opened the door, but before either of them knew what happened, Morgan was on the floor, having been wacked in the head by a broomstick being wielded by a terrified little old lady wearing a pink dress and a baby-blue knit scarf over her white hair.
"Oh…it's just a bloody fed…sorry bout that… Thought you were that sad, strange little man come to stick a needle in my neck, well I showed him…" She stated, as Reid helped her down from the chair she was standing on.
"Ma'am, did you see which way he went? Because he isn't here…" Morgan asked her, getting to his feet.
"I didn't see where that little bastard took off to, but if I was him, I'd have gone on home to clean myself up. Got him bleeding pretty good with those plates… He'd have a hell of a time getting through town unnoticed looking like that…"
Hotch then ordered the two of them to get Mason's home address from Garcia and head over there.
Morgan dialed her number and put his phone on speaker.
"What can I do? Anything for you my prince…" she answered.
"Babygirl… we need an address for James Mason…" Morgan replied.
"Ha, too easy… the winner of this week's emotionally disturbed nut-job award lives at 6222 West Pine Grove Lane. It's about a mile and a half northwest from your current position…"
They got in one of the SUVs and drove off.