"In the same territory, I suspect?" Paul asked as everyone gathered around the table, taking a seat.
"Not just within the territory," Bradbury said, walking over to the map. He slap his finger right on the marked spot. "At the Waterfall. Where the first victims were found."
"He struck the same place twice." Reid muttered, looking over the spot on the map. "If an unsub doesn't strike the same place every time... he usually moves for each kill. Why all of a sudden would he go back to the scene of the first crime?"
"Perhaps it's a pattern." Eden voiced, grabbing the offered file of the victims as Bradbury handed them out. "He started with the Waterfall to the Towers, the Grislow Hotel, and ended with the Hotel Cantor."
"It's a good theory, but you're missing one point." Reid replied.
"What's that?" She asked.
"The second victims." Bradbury explained. "They were killed in a flat. Now unless the killer is connected to that building, he's more concerned with the victims than the locations."
"As they usually are in circumstances like this." agreed Reid. "There's not even half a day between kills... something happened that told the unsub he didn't have much time to strike. What do we know about the victims?"
"Abbey and Lawrence Little..." Eden read, flipping through the file. "They were from Manchester, they had alreayd been here for three days and were set to check out tomorrow. Hmm..."
"What?" Paul wondered.
She leaned back in her chair, reading the file more closely just to be sure she was correct. "Mr. Little owned a large welding company. I've heard of it, it's a very prominent establishment. What were they doing at the Waterfall?"
"Mr. Little could have suddenly lost a bunch of money. He and his wife intended to stay at one of the larger hotels but they had a change of plans once they arrived." suggested Riley, her attention turned to Bradbury.
"The clerk informed when the Littles checked in, they had a reservation. Scheduled three months ago. The clerk even admitted in the four years he's worked there, he'd never taken a reservation for more than a week. Most guests are walk ins."
"A reservation." Reid repeated, turning around. That didn't sound right. "Inspector, would it be possible for Eden and I to speak to the staff at the Waterfall?"
Bradbury thought for a long time. He knew he should say no. Reid had no authority here and letting a civilian work on a case could get them in a lot of trouble, not to mention jeopardize the integrity of Scotland Yard. Still, though, these people were sacrificing their time to help a very serious murder investigation. He didn't want to deny Reid's unique expertise.
"As far as anyone knows, Inspector Eden went alone." Bradbury stated.
"Thank you, sir." He replied. "It would be helpful if Inspector Paul and yourself could compare the Littles to the other victims... look for similarities in the crime scenes."
"I can help with that." Riley added. She was disappointed, but getting upset wasn't going to change anything. She may as well try to make the best of this, and from the look on Reid's face, he was grateful.
"Good," Bradbury said. "It's settled then. Let's get to work, hopefully we won't be here until the late hours of the evening."
Without another word, Inspector Eden gathered her things and hurried out with Reid. Riley was amazed, expecting him to come back in a moment with a few sweet words and a kiss, but he didn't. At last she sat back in her chair, reaching for the file.
"Are you alright?" Paul wondered.
"Yeah," she nodded, her eyes glittering a bit. "He uh... he just usually says goodbye to me. His job is so dangerous, he never leaves without saying goodbye and how much he loves me... just in case."
"I'm sure he's just distracted." He assured. "When I get caught up in a case, I often neglect my wife, too. After so many years, she understands I don't mean it. And I always make it up to her."
"Right," Riley agreed, leaning back with the file. Four days and she was already the neglected wife? No, she wouldn't let herself think that yet. They may be in deeper than she wished, but it wasn't going to ruin everything. Riley would make sure of that. And with that knowledge, she felt a bit more confident and set to work.
The Waterfall was a large motel that seemed to do more business with drugs and prostitution than room and board. It was the perfect scene for a murder, but crimes of greed and passion. This was not their unsub's hunting ground, Reid was certain. He seemed much more sophisticated then that. If Mr. Little met their usual MO, than his status in society would bring him and Mrs. Little for less than a handful of reasons. If it weren't their honeymoon, Reid would have assumed this was an affair.
Eden spoke to the man at the front desk, giving Reid permission to see the room. A few members of the crime scene unit were looking over and collecting evidence, but no other officers of Scotland Yard were currently present. He stepped carefully into the room, his eyes taking in the entire scene.
It was a smaller room. Blood splatter had gathered on the wall, trickling on the bed a bit. Like raindrops. That matched the MO. Mr. Little must have been attacked from behind, possibly when he returned from something. The unsub must have snuck up on him. There seemed a minimal struggle; the bedsheets were pulled the floor, possibly by a disoriented Mr. Little trying to get to his feet. A knocked over bedside table with a broken lamp and a shattered teacup. There was no sign of a murder weapon. The unsub probably took it with him to cover evidence, if not keeping it for a trophy.
Mrs. Little must have bled out on the bathroom floor. A puddle of blood was gathered on the tile, flowing through the cracks of the grout. How had the unsub drugged her, he wondered. There were no reports of puncture wounds on the other bodies, even checking between the toes and fingers and the hairline. Besides, she would have seen the unsub for herself and possible even have fought. There was no struggle in this bathroom, just a mess of bath products knocked from the sink... an attempt to break her fall, maybe?
"The Littles were identified before they were sent to he morgue." Eden announced coming to join him. Reid turned around to see her. "And it seems the victim is not the first Mrs. Little."
"The first wife?" Reid wondered.
"Christina Little, Lawernce Little's wife for seven years." She explained. "The first wife when our victim was the male victim's secretary, and according to his office, his mistress for six and a half years."
"How did she get here so fast?" Reid asked, turning back to the mess in the bathroom.
She followed him, looking over his shoulder at the puddle, slowly beginning to dry. "She lives in London, and I'm thinking a very good candidate as a suspect."
He shook his head. "I don't agree."
Eden's jaw dropped. "How can you not agree? The woman lives here in London, she's already stinging from her husband leaving her for a leggy twenty something and you don't think she had anything to do with this."
"She has no interest in the other victims." Reid explained. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but this isn't headline knew. It would tourism if it were. I checked the newspaper on these murders, buried at the bottom of page 12 with minimal information. There's no way she did this."
"Hmm... did you know Mrs. Little is a travel agent?" Eden smugly pointed out.
Reid at last turned back to her, a little amazed. "Okay, that might change my mind." She gave him a delighted smile. "I'm not saying she's the unsub, but she's definitely worth questioning. If she worked with the other couples, it may lead us in the right direction.
"You're absolutely certain these deaths are by the same killer?" Eden asked as he stepped further into the bathroom.
Reid squatted down to look over the blood. He was almost mesmerized by it, like it were telling him a story. "There's too much evidence from the previous murders that are mirrored in this room."
"You never even saw the crime scenes." Eden folded her arms, the bitterness back in her voice. "How can you possibly know after looking over the files for two minutes this morning?"
"I have an eidetic memory." Reid explained. "Along with an IQ of 187. In those two minutes, I read those files twice and can recall them exactly."
At first, she thought he was kidding, wanting to slap him for making jokes at this time. But his expression did not change. He was serious, and Eden couldn't hide being disturbed by that comment.
"You're a genius?"
He didn't want to go into this now. "Look at this... this can't be right."
Eden stepped into the bathroom carefully. Reid's finger indicated a small patch around the blood. It seemed the red was separating from the liquid, like plasma. But it wasn't plasma.
"What is that?" She asked.
He couldn't touch it without gloves. And anyway, there was nothing to save a sample with. Reid stood back up, his eyes lingering on the smear on the edge of the puddle. "I can't be certain just by looking... but my best estimation would be some kind of sugar water."
"Sugar water?" Eden repeated, like he were making it up.
"That could be how he's drugging the victims. He crushes his narcotic/sedative cocktail and mixes it in sugar water so it dissolves; the taste is masked by the sweetness. How he gets the victims to take it after that is still unknown, but it's definitely easier to get a person to eat sugar water than swallow several pills or inject with a needle.
"He has to have a lot of time on his hands if he's going to wait for it to be metabolized." Eden said as she considered his theory. "He needs, on average, twenty minutes for the chemicals to be transported from the stomach into the blood stream and additional time for it to finally take effect on muscle and brain funtions."
Reid was impressed. She certainly had medical training. Eden continued, "It doesn't make sense, though. How could he wait that long for the wife to be paralyzed before attacking the husband?"
"He waits for them to be separated." Reid informed. "The unsub studied them, knew their patterns. If Mr. Little went somewhere, even just to return a phone call or two, that would give him enough time to drug his wife and wait for the pills to take effect. Mr. Little then returns and finds her in the bathroom, maybe already dead. His back was to the rest of the room; the unsub jumps out and begins to bludgeon him."
"It doesn't explain why he struck two couples in 24 hours." Eden announced.
"You're right," Reid looked over the puddle again, "There are half a dozen reasons why, but killing two in such short a time might make him back off for a few days. He may repeat this when he strikes again, but we may be able to catch him before we run out of time."
She looked in his direction, both thinking of what poor woman was sentenced next to suffer this fate and feeling like they had no time at all.
She had to to do it. Since sun up, Emily had been working on the perfect thing to say. She didn't want to hurt Morgan and several times she almost changed her mind. But it had to be done. He would understand, he'd probably even agree with her.
Because Emily and Morgan often thought alike. And if he didn't already have the same idea, once she explained her reasoning, he'd realize this was the right thing. Her only fear was she would start to get emotional and reveal her true feelings. All she had to do was stay calm and collected, say her piece, and then everything would be fine.
Morgan wasn't there when she arrived. The bull pen was mostly quiet, none of the team in sight. Emily's first move was a cup of coffee, still having about five files to finish before she was done with this case. Paperwork seemed much more ideal than the upcoming conversation.
"It's quiet," Garcia muttered, stepping into the break room. Without even turning around, Emily knew who she was with.
"I know," Morgan agreed. "I hate to admit it... but I'm think I'm starting to miss Reid."
"Something tells me the feeling is not mutual." Garcia grinned, getting both her and Morgan some coffee. "They're probably having such a wonderful time over there. I've always wanted to see London, it's such a romantic place."
"Not to disappoint you, Baby Girl, but I doubt they'll have much to tell." He replied. "I wouldn't be surprised if they have yet to leave the room."
"Good point," Garcia giggled. "So, how are you this morning, Emily?"
"Uh... fine." She mumbled, turning around.
It brought their pleasant conversation to an end. The tired eyes and ashen face couldn't be denied.
"Em, are you alright?" Garcia asked, brushing her arm. "You look sick or upset about something."
She glanced at Morgan. He was looking at her passively. She couldn't tell if that were sincere or just a mask for his true feelings. "Uh... actually I am. I have to talk to Morgan about something... privately."
There seemed to be a twitch of a smile on his face, but it left as quickly as it had come. "Okay..." he mumbled, "Garcia, can we use your office?"
"Yeah, no problem." She replied, still looking at Emily with concern.
"No, here's fine. I'd rather talk in here. I just, uh..." She looked to Garcia with sympathy. "I just need to speak to him privately. Would you mind?"
"Not in the least," She smiled, though both could see she was uneasy. Garcia was obviously reluctant at leaving these two alone. Especially in a room with items that could be used as weapons. But she obliged, "If you guys need me..."
Emily watched her until the glass doors closed, not wanting anyone to overhear this. Discussing this here seemed the best choice. Neither would be able to lose their composure in here, no yelling, no kissing, nothing that could manipulate Emily to change her mind. All she had to do was get this out. And then she would feel better.
"So what's up, Prentiss?" Morgan inquired, leaning against the counter, his coffee in hand.
"How was your date last night?" She couldn't look at him. She turned back, continuing to fix her already stirred coffee.
"Fine," He said slowly, trying not to sound too pleased. He's evil plan was working. "She wanted to go to this martini bar she and her friends like. You know, the kind of place young barely legal girls go to find rich, older men."
"Not exactly our scene." Emily added, dumping in enough sugar to even make Reid's lips purse. "Then what? Did you... go to dinner... or..."
Morgan knew what she wanted to know. Did he sleep with her? "We went back to her place after drinks."
"Is that so," she muttered, still unable to look at him. "Well, I'm glad you had a good time."
"Are you?" Morgan asked, he leaned in closer to her. "Because you sound upset. Is something bothering you, Princess?"
It was now or never. Emily took a deep, cleansing breath, letting the air out slowly. Opening her eyes, she turned and met his gaze. "Actually yes... I don't think we should do this anymore."
Morgan felt like a deflated balloon. He knew there would be an outcome from this, but this was the complete opposite of what he planned. "What?"
"I thought about it all night." She admitted. "And... Morgan, I care about you. You're my best friend, I trust you... You're one of the best people to come into my life and I hope you'll be there for the rest of it. But not like this. I think we should end this."
"Prentiss..." he checked around for eavesdroppers, noticing the few people already in the unit were too preoccupied to worry about their hushed conversation. "This is coming out of left field. You didn't seem too disturb by our little arrangement yesterday afternoon." He was moving closer into her space. Too close. "Remember yesterday afternoon... in your apartment-"
"I remember." Emily said quickly, backing away. "Believe me I remember. Look... I care about you, Morgan. And I wish things could be different... If we were younger or we didn't work together... or if we weren't hopelessly doomed to fail at relationships, this might have been different. But we are who we are. We knew from the beginning this couldn't last forever."
"Did I do something to offend you?" He demanded. Morgan was not about to give her up without a fight. "Is this about Cheyenne? Because I asked you, you said it was fine."
"It was fine." She assured, not wanting to hurt him. "This is about me, not you. I know everyone says that, but it's the truth. I just think we should quit while we're ahead, when we can still go back to the way we were."
"You mean the unbearable sexual tension that lead to resentment and bitter figthing?" He wondered.
"No," she said sharply. "To just... being friends. There was a time when we were just friends. We can go back to that, can't we? We're adults and we care too much about each other to let everything be ruined, right?"
He wanted to protest. He stared at her, looking at him with wide, hopeful, frightened eyes. Morgan rarely saw her so scared. She was terrified of losing him completely. Though it didn't take the sting out of this.
"Sure, yeah." He nodding, avoiding those eyes he loved so much. Deep brown that looked like melted chocolate when they made love. "Whatever you want, Prentiss."
"I know this is unexpected and I'm sorry... but I really think it's for the best." She uttered softly, stopping herself before she reached to brush his arm. She longed to touch him, but distance was better. Why she wasn't sure seeing how all she wanted right now was to be pulled in his arms, to feel warm and happy again`.
"Yeah, whatever. I've got paperwork to do, so I'll talk to you later."
Without waiting for her response, he left her alone in the break room. Emily leaned on the counter staring at her shoes. Her hand reached for her cup.
She thought she would feel better. That there would be a tremendous pressure lifted off her shoulders and start to feel normal again. But she was wrong. In fact, she felt worse. All she wanted was to go back five minutes and have this never have happened.
Taking a sip, the coffee was so strong and not at all sweet. For what she thought had been sugar had been the salt shaker. If that wasn't some kind of karma. Quickly, she rushed to the sink and spit it out, dumping the rest down the drain. Still, the salt wasn't strong enough to disperse the bitter after taste from the words that had hurt the person she cared for most in the world.