The others settled around the table once again with the inspectors, each accepting the file on the new victims from Bradbury. Hotch began explaining the evidence almost as fast as Reid could devour it.
"Harris and Sarah Neilson," He stated, "Another newlywed couple from Dublin. They had checked into The Towers two days ago and were supposed to stay a total of eight days. Harris Neilson was killed just as the other males and Marcy Lemon, a fatal blow to the back of the head, along with further beating and bludgeoning. Sarah had her throat slit and had nearly bled to death when the chamber maid found her over an hour ago."
"It's amazing she survived." Emily stated. "Any word on her condition?"
"The hospital will call once they have a definite update." Hotch explained. "Their theory is the unsub only nicked the carotid artery, that's how she was able to hang on longer."
"That seems like a rookie mistake." Morgan noticed.
"He might have been in a hurry to get away." Suggested Paul. "Maybe he heard someone coming in the room or in the hall or simply startled by something."
Rossi nodded in agreement. "That's a definite possibility. This unsub isn't doing this because he can't control his urges, he's more on some kind of a mission. And that means he doesn't want to get caught yet."
"And he won't until he feels his message has been heard." Hotch added.
"Well, I think I speak for everyone here when I say 'Message received'." Eden announced.
Hotch corrected with a shake of his head. "Not in his eyes. In fact, he believes that no one is listening. Alright, we don't have much time. Let's hope Mrs. Neilson survives, we need a witness. JJ, you're going to work with me and Inspector Bradbury, it's time we have a press conference. Now that we're on a clearer trail, it's appropriate to alert the public."
"Will I be presenting?" She wondered.
"No, I think it's best if a local takes this. The murders are based in London, there's no reason international authorities need to take over. But I want you to set it up, coach Bradbury on what you would say."
"Yes, sir." JJ said. She closed her file, ready to at last be of real use.
"Reid," Hotch called as he looked, "Anything useful in the complaint file?"
"Yes, actually, involving both the McClarens and the Littles." He stated.
"The Littles? I thought they were staying at the Waterfall." Emily spoke.
"Before, we couldn't figure out why someone as successful as Lawrence Little was staying at the hotel?" Reid pointed out. "That's because they were registered to stay at the Grislow."
"Why didn't they?" Asked Garcia.
"The reservation was lost." He replied. "In fact... they were supposed to have the suite across from me and Riley."
He hadn't expected the sudden silence in the room, everyone staring at him, startled. He hadn't expected them to be so shocked. "What?"
"Reid," Hotch said, slowly, "Maybe we should get you and Riley a room at our hotel-"
"No, you don't," He exclaimed. "I admit it's unusual, but it is a coincidence. We weren't even supposed to be in that room, remember?"
"They lost your reservation, too, didn't they?" JJ suggested, hoping he'd see the irony just as they had.
"No, it was moved because the McClarens were killed." Reid stated, though that didn't make it sound much better. "It has nothing to do with us. Look, if it were just couples at the Grislow, I'd say your concern has merit, but there are three other hotels and a private apartment with no apparent connection. How do you explain those?"
Hotch considered his words for a moment before looking to their tech analyst. "Garcia, look into the other victims, see if they had a run in with the Grislow Hotel or anyone who works there."
"Wouldn't that already be in the red file?" Morgan questioned before Garcia could agree.
"Not if they didn't actually make a complaint." Reid replied. "Guests have to state to a manager that they want to lodge a formal complaint for it to be recorded. We've stayed in enough hotels to know that."
"There may be evidence elsewhere, maybe in police records or other hotel files. If all else fails, contact friends and family of the victims." Hotch ordered.
Garcia made a note, her pink fuzzy pen scribbling fiercely over the note pad before her. "I am all over it, sir. With any luck, I'll have some results by sunrise."
"Morgan and Emily, go with the other inspectors to the hotel, profile the crime scene. See if they match Lemon's office in any way. I'd like the inspectors to help Rossi speak to the night staff, see if they spotted anything out of the ordinary. If they spoke to the victims at all during their stay, if they had any complaints about The Towers, like at the Grislow."
"What do you want me to do?" Reid wondered.
He almost couldn't believe the softened expression on his boss's face, like trying to be easy, but at the same time keep his authority. "Finish going over these files, it shouldn't take you more than a half an hour. After that... you can head back to the your hotel, if you're certain you don't want to join us at ours."
Reid had only seen Hotch like this when JJ came back from her maternity leaves, not wanting to throw her into anything too stressful too soon. Maybe he felt sorry for him, sacrificing his night here with them when he could be with the woman he loved. "I'm certain... I'll look these over and present my findings in the morning."
Hotch closed his file. "It's settled then, let's get going and meet back here by 8 am. Hopefully by tomorrow afternoon, we'll have a full profile and a formed suspect list. And I'll let everyone know the news on Sarah Neilson's condition as soon as possible."
In agreement, everyone went their separate ways. Reid couldn't be happier about his assignment tonight. He actually enjoyed the meditative quality of going over paperwork, and this wouldn't take very long. In no time, he'd be back in his suite, begging his wife for forgiveness.
Fighting off his exhaustion, he took a long swig of coffee, draining the mug. Reid collected the files and moved to the long couch against the wall. This might go faster if he were more comfortable.
Stretching out on the sofa, he pulled open the first file and began to read. His best efforts did no good. Despite the coffee, his fatigue was rapidly getting the best of him. He hadn't even made it to the bottom of the first page before he fell asleep.
The Towers was a very beautiful, elegant hotel, much like the Plaza in New York City. The group arrived to find a busy crowd spilling out from the lobby. The agents doubted the hotel had ever seen chaos quite like this.
Inspector Paul introduced the three agents and asked for Morgan and Emily to be brought upstairs to the Neilson's suite. He seemed reluctant, wanting to put as much space between himself and that horrific mess as possible. But he couldn't disagree, and the two followed him to the elevators.
There is nothing more uncomfortable than to be trapped in a small box with nothing but tense silence for company. Morgan searched his mind for conversation, but his mind had slim ideas.
"What is it you call elevators over here?" He asked to the officer.
He gave a nervous swallow, "Lifts." He explained.
"Lifts." Morgan repeated, looking at Emily. She stared at the metal doors, like she were riding with two strangers. Morgan turned away, not wanting her to catch him. "I still have some trouble understanding you guys... with the accent and the slang and everything."
"You get used to it." Emily muttered. "Give it some time."
He fidgeted a bit in his stance. "That's good advice, Prentiss... I should listen to you more."
Almost shocked, Emily glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He stared straight ahead, falling into silence. Only the lurch of the elevator for company.
A jingle announced their floor and within a minute the doors slid open. The constable cleared his throat before taking a step and lead them down the long hall of suites. Crime tape guarded the open doors. The constable couldn't even bring himself within two feet of the door.
"The manager has informed me the guests on this floor have been moved to other rooms, so you'll have complete privacy. The crime unit has filmed and photographed the entire place so, no one should interrupt you."
"Thank you," Morgan said, "Our other agent is downstairs, we'll call down if we need anything."
"Take your time." He called, already hurrying back to the lift.
"How much do you want to bet he's done nothing but direct traffic before now?" Morgan mumbled, lifting up the tape for her.
Emily gave an inadvertent chuckle, accepting his gentlemanly gesture as she slipped in. The sight that met them was horrific. The room was trashed, like a wild party had been in here... one that went horribly wrong with the blood coating the walls. There was so much of it, the stench covered the room. Water mixed with iron. Emily tried to breathe through her mouth, waiting for nasal fatigue to kick in.
"Murder weapon," Morgan indicated. His rubber gloved hands reached down and lifted a long thin object, the top glittering a bit with red.
"What is that?" Emily asked, suspecting from the splintered wood, it was broken off from something. "A chair leg?"
"I don't think so." He said, turning it over, careful not to disturb the blood. "The top is too decorative, and the wood is much too soft to support ... I think it might be some kind of cane or walking stick. Maybe even Mr. Neilson's."
"I'll send a text to Rossi, tell him to ask the staff if they saw him walk with one." Emily whipped out her phone. "It's almost poetic, taking a possession of the victim's, something designed to help him, and using it to end his life."
"It may not be the first time." He added. Morgan carefully set it aside for forensics to wrap up later.
He moved into the bedroom where a puddle of blood had formed on the pillows. Mrs. Neilson must have laid down when the drugs began to make her drowsy, just as Lemon's assistant had. Even to have survived long enough to be taken to the hospital was indescribably lucky. Why he made a mistake like that, Morgan couldn't see any sign currently.
"If he were interrupted, as we thought, how did the unsub have time to kill Mr. Neilson before needing to get away." Morgan wondered.
Emily put her phone back on her belt. "Good point, I didn't think of that. Maybe he kills the woman after."
It was possible, but right now, there was no way to tell when exactly he did it. Emily moved to the cleaner side of the bed, searching for clues.
"I wonder where the husband went for so long." Emily said. "It seems odd a newlywed couple would spend more than a few minutes apart."
"It couldn't have been spontaneous, at least not completely. The killer knew their routine." He agreed.
"Oh," Emily cried and a moment later appeared, holding a shorter piece of wood in her hand. "I think we found the other half of the stick."
"How could it have broken?" He asked, observing it a moment.
"We don't know how tall Neilson was, but if there was a good difference of height between him and his killer, maybe he didn't hit him square in the back of the head like the others. Come here."
Doing as told, Morgan walked over. Emily's hand turned him away from her, crouching down a bit. "I'm 5'10 and you're over six feet, so that's no problem, but... let's assume the victim had at least a foot of height on his killer. He reaches up with all his force to attack him by surprise." She mimed swishing the stick down on his head, her knuckles tapping him on the neck. "It stuns him, maybe even injures him, but not enough to stop him."
"And a fight breaks out." Morgan stated, looking behind her.
"Exactly..." She searched quickly to confirm her theory. "Here." Emily rushed to the doors, separating the bedroom from the sitting area. Splintered wood ruined a small part of the wall, pieces of the cane wedged in the white paint. "He tried to strike Neilson, but he moved and thrashed the wall, snapping the stick in two. This flies under the bed and the unsub continues his pursuit."
Morgan got himself in the frame of mind. He normally put himself into the psyche of the killer, but this time his focus needed to be as a victim. "Okay... so I'm in the middle of a fight with a man who wants to kill me... I should be trying to get away." He looked back at the door, "But I can't just get out... because my wife is sleeping in bed, I can't leave her. I know I have to fight him."
Emily followed as he tried to make a trail of the mess. "Here, this is where he fell... the killer came to his senses and struck him in the knees, cutting his height."
He went to his knees and Emily came forward. "And now..." she mimed the movement again. "He strikes him in the head... and that's the fatal blow. Everything after that is rage."
"Which is also what makes him so strong." Morgan said, standing up again. "Any other time he's weak... unnoticed. Probably feels betrayed by society."
"This is his message to the world." Emily agreed. "I'd say you're right." She looked around the disheveled room, muttering under her breath. "You are so right."
Morgan cocked his head curiously, unable to ignore that. "What are you talking about?"
"Nothing, just forget it." She turned, moving towards the bathroom. Morgan hurried after her, climbing through the mess of the suite to catch up. The crunch of papers from open books, crushing a few pieces of porcelain into the carpet, probably from a tea cup or saucer. At last, in the safe tidiness of the bathroom, Morgan grabbed her arm.
"Emily... what's going on?" He wondered. "You know you can talk to me... you've always been able to talk to me."
"Really?" She wondered. "Because I feel like I can't talk to you about anything, I feel like I can't even look at you without feeling like I hate you... or myself."
"Alright... if I admit I am indeed a giant ass, will redeem me and let me be your friend?" He wondered.
It had barely been a day, but she felt like she hadn't seen that caring, compassionate look in years. His eyes, so rich and powerful, always able to make her weak in the knees. She sighed and pulled her arm from him, turning around.
"You're right, you know... I'm damaged. I'm so irreversibly damaged, I don't know what I want and could never keep it if I did."
"Ah, Prentiss, come on, I was just angry. I didn't mean that." He stated.
"But it's the truth. Did you know where I wanted to work when I came to Quantico? Cold Cases. I was tired of dealing with bodies and I wanted to help bring justice to people who might never have it... but I let some Bureaucrat manipulate me in order to fill her agenda. Who does that?"
"Not you. You wouldn't help Strauss, remember? And you almost gave up your career because of it. You kept your integrity and your dignity. That is what you wanted and you made sure you got it." He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek, both ignoring the sensation it generated. "And that tells me, you may not know what you want, but when it comes along... you'll hang onto it. And you won't let it go for anything. When you know it, you'll get it. I'm sure."
"Morgan," she said in a whisper. "I'm sorry... but can we please, please got back to being friends? I don't want to fight with you, I don't want to hide anymore, I just want to be us again."
"I can't say I'm entirely pleased about that, but..." He grave a shrug as he smiled, "But I have to choose, I'll take friends. It's not like things have a better outcome any other way. I'd miss you too much if I lost my best friend."
She beamed, reaching up to pull him into her arms. She breathed in the musk about him, a bit richer after almost a day without showering. She loved how he always made her sheets smell after a night of love making, like a imprint of him was forever in her bed. "Thank you."
He inhaled the sweet vanilla on her, enriched in her clothes. "Thank you, for taking back a jerk like me into your life."
"Hey," She snapped, giving a glare as she pulled away. "You talk about my partner like that, I'll kick your egotistical ass."
"Considering I whooped yours yesterday, I'd say that's a bluff." He smirked, showing off that enticing smile of his.
"Please, I was just going easy on you!" She teased him and continued her sweep of the room.
"Yeah," he chuckled. "You keep telling yourself that, Princess."
She leaned down to look under the sink, feeling a bit sad at her usual nickname. She loved when they'd be together in bed, hearing him exhale that in a whisper as his strong body lay on top of her, reaching down to her ear. At last she had exactly what she wanted... and yet felt worse than before. Like she'd lost everything.
Emily didn't notice Morgan standing behind her, staring at her with the same kind of longing. He wasn't any better than she was. Even when he knew what he wanted, he couldn't even find the courage to say it out loud, even to himself. And now he'd run out of every chance of ever making her his.
The next thing Reid could register was the sound of his phone buzzing. He figured he'd only been asleep for an hour, maybe two. But as he opened his eyes, the bright morning sun sparkled through the open blinds, burning his retinas.
He groaned as he shielded his eyes for a moment. His phone was still buzzing on the floor where it had fallen. The ringtone for every contact outside of the team. Sitting up a bit, he quickly grabbed it and read Riley's name.
"Hey," He managed to grumble, needing to clear his throat from sleep.
"Hey," She said on the other line. "Look to your left."
"What?" He asked, puzzled.
"Just... look to your left." She ordered.
At her command, Reid turned and glanced beside him. Immediately, he grinned, spotting a surprise. Breakfast and coffee laid out on a napkin... but even better, Riley sitting just a few seats away from it, waiting for him to wake.
She closed her phone. "After I ate mine, I was still hungry so I stole your hash browns."
"That's okay," He said, putting his phone back down. "This is so sweet."
"Well... I figured you could use it..." She stood and made her way over to him. "You know, when I said you should sleep on the couch, I meant the one in our suite. I went looking for you at 3:30 wanting to make amends."
She sat beside him on the sofa as he reached up to rub the tiredness from his eyes. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to stay here, I fell asleep by accident."
"I'm just glad you're okay, I was worried." She reached over to take his hand. "I'm sorry about last night."
"You shouldn't be sorry, you had every right to be mad." His other hand reached to brush her hair off her face. She looked much better rested than he did.
"Yeah, but I shouldn't have made you feel worse. I don't know why I said those things. I know you care about me, I know you love me."
"I do," He confirmed, his hand slipping into her hair, pulling her closer so she rested her forehead on his. "And I hate that I disappointed you. Again. You're absolutely right, I keep making you promises and I just break them. I did promise I'd spend every day making you happy. Here we are, six days into our marriage and all I've done is made you miserable."
"Spencer, I am not miserable." She argued. "This is in no way ideal and we haven't had any time alone, but... we're together. I'm happy just by the fact that... we're married. I never thought this would happen... there was a time I wasn't even sure I wanted this. Being your wife is a dream come true, don't you know that?"
Reid couldn't help but grin stupidly. "Really?"
"Yes, really." She smirked, nudging him in the ribs. "I love you, you idiot."
For some reason, he really adored when she called him an idiot. Just another reminder how much different she saw him from the rest of the world. "I love you, too."
"And you should know, Spencer. I wasn't so much mad last night as I was... frustrated." Riley attempted to explain.
He matched her simper, trying not to laugh. "Frustrated?"
"You know what I mean. You can't get a girl worked up like that and then abandon her." She informed.
"I know... but tonight will be different." He assured. "I'm not making any promises, but to the best of my ability, the entire evening is devoted to us, alone together. We'll order room service and we'll turn off our cell phones and wear out our Do Not Disturb sign."
She closed her eyes as she sighed, her arm slipping around his waist as she pulled him closer. "That sounds... pretty much perfect."
They met in a slow, sensual kiss. The newlyweds almost forgot where they were at the moment. Reid let his other hand land onto the denim of her thigh and up onto her hip. The hem of her sweater wasn't enough to stop him as his fingers moved to find the soft skin underneath. He gave soft moan as her fingers went into the tendrils of his hair, losing themselves in the essence of each other. Emily and Morgan entering the room couldn't penetrate the world they were in.
"Ugh," Morgan grumbled, spotting them. "You two make me sick."
"Don't like it, don't watch." Reid mumbled, neither one phased as their lips moved in perfect harmony.
"Oh my God, Reid. Did you sleep here?" Emily wondered, noticing the disheveled files spilled onto the floor. "I thought you headed home after you read the files."
Reid unexpectedly broke their kiss. "Oh, I never finished reading." He glanced apologetically at Riley. "I need to do that before the others get here."
"Too late," Emily informed. "Hotch and JJ just got here from the press conference, they'll be here in a minute.
Reid bent down to clean up his mess, getting to the table to read. He took a long swig of his coffee, which would have burned his mouth had it not cooled down already, and sat to work.
Sitting beside him, Riley noticed how Emily claimed the seat right next to Morgan. At first, it seemed the tension between them was gone, but it was just an illusion. There was still something off about them, like they were keeping something from the others... and from each other.
"Where's Garcia?" Hotch asked as he and JJ hurried in.
"She was here late working, I told her to go to the hotel and get some rest." Morgan replied. "Unlike some of us who like to sleep on the job."
Reid looked up to glare at him while Emily asked, "Did you hear anything on Sarah Neilson?"
"Yes," He stated. "And it seems Sarah Neilson is going to pull through. She's our first and only surviving victim."
"It could mean the unsub's devolving." Morgan realized. "He could start making a lot more mistakes, it'll be easier to catch him."
"And his kills are going to become sooner and more erratic. Let's get him before it comes to that." Hotch stated.
"How long until Mrs. Neilson is ready to talk?" JJ asked.
"It has to be now." Hotch replied. "We can't wait. He could strike another couple tonight. Reid,"
"Yes, sir," Reid asked, sitting up.
"I think it best if you and Riley go and speak to her. You're the best at physical profiling and Riley has the training to get her to open up, you'll be able to get the best information. Find out all you can about what she did last, down to the last detail. She's at Marbury Hospital on the trauma ward."
"I'll call to tell them you're coming." JJ added, grabbing her phone.
"Thanks, JJ," Reid said, grabbing to start on his breakfast. "Well, at least we'll get to see some of the city."
"No offense by Marbury Hospital was no on my list of sites I wanted to visit." Riley replied. Standing up, she grabbed her coffee cup. "But it'll keep us busy because the sooner today is over," She leaned down to press a kiss on his cheek. "The sooner we have tonight."
Reid watched until she was out of the room, heading to get more coffee. Reid had a better feeling, that things were going to go much differently this time. And they would get their time alone. Because being married to her was the greatest thing he could ask for... and the greater something was, the better the odds were something - or someone - would want to take it away.