Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.
Author's Note: Behold the power of reviews. You wanted the blonde in danger. Your wish is my command, or it will be in the next chapter. But see, I'm setting it up. Let me know what you think. Also, I apologize for the delay in posting. I lost all motivation to write, and it seemed to be quite difficult to find. Also, school started again, and it started kicking my butt from day one.
"You may have to physically hold me back from shooting this unsub in the face for making me miss my daughter's first Christmas," Morgan threatened as he rubbed a hand viciously over his face.
"Dually noted, but on the bright side, there's no snow in Arizona."
"Snow statistically increases one's overall pleasure and relaxation ratings of the major winter holidays," Reid chimed in as he settled into his seat.
"Shut up, Reid," Morgan grumbled unhappily.
"Be nice to Spence," JJ chided as she automatically tipped her head to rest on Emily's cashmere covered shoulder.
"Yeah, be nice to me. Where's your Christmas spirit, Scrooge?"
"Back at home with my fiancée and child," Morgan rebutted with a quiet growl.
"Now, now, the sooner we solve this case, the sooner we can be home with fuzzy slippers and a nice bottle of cognac," Rossi reminded from across the aisle.
"You wear fuzzy slippers," Emily scoffed incredulously. The older gentleman just turned his well-practiced glare on the brunette woman, causing her to stifle a laugh. Reaching down, she intertwined her fingers with her wife's before placing a gentle kiss to the blonde's forehead.
As Hotch took his seat, everyone sat up a little straighter and focused on the files littered with disturbing photos. His stern glaze analyzed each of the agents before addressing the case at hand. "Okay, we've got an unsub in a frenzy. Four days and nineteen victims," he summarized.
"How did he get to 19 in four days?"
"The unsub enters a coffee shop with a semi-automated weapon. After shooting out the cameras, he proceeds to kill everyone in the store. He kidnaps a woman from each crime scene. None of the four women have been found."
"What coffee shop would be open on Christmas day?"
"Okay that takes planning, so the unsub is organized. Also, he knows exactly where all the cameras are positioned, meaning he's canvassed these shops."
"Each of the four shops seem to be near generally populated intersections," Reid mentioned as he flipped through the photos of the crime scene locations. "He's non-threatening enough as a typical civilian, and he doesn't stand out to people who see him on the street. He looks average. He is average."
"That puts him between 5'8 and 6 weighing anywhere from 170 to 230 pounds."
"The victims are all blonde in their late thirties to early forties, so he has an obvious type."
"He has to drive some sort of van or truck to transport his victims without standing out."
"Here's my question," Emily stated as she tilted her head slightly. She paused as she formulated her thought. "Are these women already dead? From what is left of the footage, he comes in; mask on, and immediately starts shooting. Semi-automatic weapons have little to no precision, especially not the way he's shooting. He is just flailing the gun around killing as many people as possible in as little time as possible. What's the likelihood that he manages to miss shooting the woman he takes while at the same time making sure there are no witnesses and left in the store and making sure the woman doesn't run?" The team paused and contemplated this.
"Then why risk taking the body?" Rossi posed. "In any state, she's a liability to him getting caught. Alive- she could run, scream, or catch the attention of a bystander. Injured- she's basically dead weight that he has to maneuver out of the coffee shop and to his vehicle while making sure she doesn't scream or catch the attention of a bystander. Dead- she is dead weight. Given that all of these shops like Reid pointed out are in busy areas, he has three or four minutes from the first gun shot to the police arriving if he's lucky. Why risk carrying out a specific victim if he barely has time has time to escape?"
"He needs the victim to complete the kills. He needs the adrenalin of a frenzy, but the personalization of a kidnapping. He needs to connect a single individual to each of his sprees, or the killing doesn't get him off."
"Even if the individual is living or dead?"
"We don't have bodies, so we continue as if they are alive," Hotch declared.
"But statistically those odds are very slim, almost less than 8%, given the weapon and the unsub's frenzied method of killing."
"I know that, Reid, but no bodies means we act as the victims are still living. Let's keep going with the profile."
"Okay, the unsub probably experienced a major stressor around five days ago induced by a blonde female. As we don't know what he does to the victims, it is hard to say whether the blonde was a significant other, parent, or boss."
"Age-wise: I would say he's around the age of the victims, even though spree killers are typically younger."
"But if the stressor is work related and the blonde victims take the place of a boss or superior in his psychosis, he could be younger than the average age of the victims," Morgan countered.
"Age is difficult to profile. We know this," Rossi noted helpfully. Hotch nodded along with the profile occasionally adding insights, as was the dynamics of the initial profiling. When the conversation lulled, Hotch assigned the usual roles to his team members before letting them all disperse to relax before they hit the ground running.
"We don't have much time for introductions," the chief hurried as he shook Hotch's hand before addressing the others. "He struck again at a coffee shop off Memorial. We were called almost immediately, but he still managed to slip away. Eight more are dead. This time, he killed a cop's wife. My men are getting anxious. We have 27 victims and no leads."
"Well, let's go to the latest crime scene. We need to see all five crime scenes in order to build a complete profile to deliver to your men."
The distinct sound of feet crunching broken glass helped focus Emily's train of thought. Her eyes raked over the damaged coffee shop taking in the spray of bullet holes along the back wall and the positions of the snow-white sheets covering the deceased. In her minds' eye she saw the way the situation played out from the way the unsub entered the establishment to the overly confident way he pulled out his gun. She envisioned how the victims slumped, injured and using the walls for support. "There's blood splatter there," she pointed.
"There are eight victims. There would be blood splatter," one of the local cops retorted.
"That's direct spatter. Someone was standing right there when they were shot. There's a slight blood pool," she noted as she nudged a pile of debris with the tip of her shoe. "He took another woman- two in one day."
"From the blood, we know she's injured. Were there cameras?"
"It's a high-tech system surprisingly. There were cameras, but they were destroyed. We don't know where the film recorded," a local responded.
"If you talk to Penelope Garcia at the BAU, she can figure that out. We need that tape."
"Yes sir."
It was hours before the team finally sat around the conference table in the room provided at the local station. Morgan leaned back in his chair with his hands roughly massaging his bald scalp. He stared out the closest window into the dark night sky. "We have nothing," he groaned.
"He's more organized than we originally thought."
"Did Garcia find anything from the camera footage from the latest crime scene?"
"No. Well," JJ amended, "she's still running the face of the shooter and the woman who was taken through all of her software. There's nothing yet."
"Okay. What did you find at the other crime scenes?" Hotch addressed Emily and Morgan.
"Honestly, nothing that we didn't know already. He enters and within moments fires off his first shots, ending the camera footage. After that he sweeps his gun in a left to right motion. At each coffee shop, there's a bit of blood spatter that can't be immediately connected to any of the victims found in the shops."
"So that tells us that the women he has kidnapped are injured at least," Rossi added as he looked up from his notebook.
"How is he picking these coffee shops? Given the amount of organization he exhibits, the locations can't be random. Can they?"
"I think the footage is our only lead at the moment. Do we have ballistics on the gun?"
"No, we've got nothing."
"Then, let's head to the hotel. There's nothing we can do for the moment until we get more information back on the footage." The team mutely nodded their heads before lifting heavily from their chairs.
"What time is it?" JJ mumbled as she slid into the familiar leather seat of the nondescript black SUV.
"12:54 in the morning."
"So tired," Morgan grumbled.
"Long ass day. And to think it started off so well."
"Was that before or after his vivacious fiancé gave us a damn dog?" JJ huffed sarcastically. Morgan grimaced "It's too late to call the kids. Crap."
"Jen, I inherited my sleep schedule from the Ambassador. You know she's awake, and the likelihood our eldest children are still awake is unreasonably high."
They pulled up to the hotel as JJ spoke with the Ambassador. Emily grabbed their go-bags and followed Morgan inside.
"So it never gets easier?" He asked solemnly.
"What?"
"Leaving them behind."
She offered a sad smile before responding, "No, no it doesn't. It might actually get harder because the older they get, the more they understand. They realize that with the job we do there is always a chance we won't be coming home in one piece."
"Great. So I have something to look forward to," he replied glumly. "Did you ever think about quitting?"
"Temporarily, yeah. Then, I realized how lost I was without this job. It's such a part of who I am. I couldn't leave it behind. Nor would I ever give up the life I have at home. You learn to balance. There are times it's like a circus act. Actually, it's almost always like a circus act. You are juggling six batons on fire while you're balancing on a tightrope. The good thing is your family is your safety net, and we won't let you hit the ground." He nodded at her explanation before stepping off to the side, so she could get them signed into their hotel rooms.
Passing out keys to the appropriate people, she noticed JJ gravitating slowly towards the bar. "Night guys," Emily said softly before walking over to her wife. "Everything okay at home, Jen?"
"Hmm," the blonde jumped slightly, feeling a hand weigh on her shoulder. "Oh yeah, everything is okay. Lily's out like a light, and Duke is fast asleep in Hayley's bed."
"And our actual children?"
"Henry and Nate are up playing one of the new games, and Abby's reading. Hayley's asleep though."
"It's nice to know one of our children still abides by the bedtime rules."
"Isn't it?"
"So what's wrong, Jen?"
"I don't know. It's Christmas, and I miss our babies. I miss my parents. I miss our bed, and I'm homesick. We haven't even been gone 24 hours at this point."
"I know," Emily whispered reassuringly, pulling JJ into a strong embrace. "I know. I miss them too." Placing a kiss to her forehead, she inquired if JJ wanted a drink.
"No, I want one, but we're on the clock. We have to get up early tomorrow, and we're going to be running on little to no sleep as it is." She continued to list the excuses, trying to convince herself that a drink was indeed a bad decision.
"Okay, how about a hot shower and sleep?" Emily compromised smoothly as she led JJ to the elevators with a guiding hand against the small of the blonde's back. JJ relaxed into Emily's touch and nodded her head wordlessly. "We can do that," Emily promised. "And soon enough, we'll be home with our children running in maniacal circles chasing the latest canine addition to our large, dysfunctional family."
"Oh, god. We have a dog," she groaned.
