A/N: Forgot to mention, this WIP will be updated daily. Looks like a total of about six, maybe seven chapters. Thanks to those who have left feedback. I didn't realize there were other Tony Hill fans out there. (grin)
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He was involved in an animated conversation with Sara when out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a blonde entering the room. He felt rather than saw her give him the once over before heading straight for the coffee machine. Then he returned his full attention back to the young brunette who was captivating him with her vast knowledge of seemingly everything.
"You must be Mr. Grissom's favourite," he surmised.
Her brow raised. "Why do you say that?"
"At risk of offending your teammates, who I've obviously yet to meet, I can't imagine anyone else being as quick as you are."
He watched the faint blush stain her cheeks. "We're all pretty quick around here," Sara said. "And I am definitely not his favourite."
Something in her tone sparked a question, and, noticing the shift in his eyes, she laughed. "Don't even go there. Besides," she added as a young tall black man walked through the door, "that's his favourite."
"Yo, Sara," he called as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Who's your friend?"
She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "That's Warrick Brown, the inquisitive one." Sitting up straight again, she answered, "This is Dr. Tony Hill. He's profiling a serial killer from England."
"Boy, you took a wrong turn at Albuquerque," the blonde drawled from a nearby couch.
"That's Catherine Willows…"
"… the independent one," he dropped into the same conspiratorial whisper.
"You know I'm picking your brain later, right?" Sara asked.
He laughed and looked at the other occupants of the room. Raising his cup, he said, "Pleasure to meet you."
"What brings a profiler all the way from England to Las Vegas?" Warrick asked as he sat at the large table.
"I'm about to get to that right now," Grissom answered as he walked through the doorway, Tony's folder under his arm. A young dark haired man entered breathlessly behind him.
"What'd I miss?"
"I'm just getting started, Nick. Take a seat."
All eyes turned their focus to Grissom. Satisfied he had their attention, he began.
"Before we get to the assignments tonight, I'd like to introduce you all to Dr. Tony Hill." Heads turned nodding in polite acknowledgment. "He thinks our priest with the missing hand is connected to a string of murders in England." Grissom lifted the folder for all to see and set it on the table. "I've reviewed the evidence he's given me and I have to say I agree." Tony nodded his appreciation. "Everything else is probably easier for Dr. Hill to explain, so, if you'd like to take over." He motioned for Tony to take his place.
The profiler quickly wiped his palms on the thighs of his trousers and stood up. He hated speaking in front of an audience of any kind. He cleared his throat nervously. "First, my thanks to Mr. Grissom for confirming my conclusions. I find I spend so much time on a case that I can often overlook the evidence in favour of a personal theory." He saw various gestures of agreement from the others. "That being said, I was almost hoping I had been wrong. The murdered priest you found nineteen days ago might have been your first, but I've seen this seven times in the past six months."
Catherine gasped and he was aware that he now had their full attention.
"Five and a half months ago, the case of Father Gregory Reid landed on my desk. Generally, I don't see files until they escalate into several cases. My job is to come up with a profile of a suspect based on a collection of psychological evidence from a number of cases the subject is a suspect in. Hard to draw much from one case." He smiled.
"However," he continued, "it was brought to my attention by a friend on the force who took one look at the evidence and thought it would be best to err on the side of speculation. I looked over the evidence and had to agree."
"The missing hand must have been a red flag," Nick spoke out.
"Absolutely. Such an odd piece of evidence in what would generally be considered a 'normal' murder -if there is such a thing- points towards a serial in the making." Tony answered. "The bloody handprints on the doors were the second big clue." He noticed the looks of confusion facing him. "Oh, I'm sorry. You weren't alerted to anyone finding blood on the door to their house or flat?"
"Nothing we were told," replied Grissom.
"Hmmmm," Tony said, almost to himself. Bringing his gaze from the floor to the faces looking at his for answers, he went on. "It's what he does with the hand. It's why he cuts it off. As far as I can tell, he wraps it up in something absorbent, a towel perhaps, then marks twenty seven houses, seemingly at random."
Warrick raised an eyebrow. "Why twenty seven?"
"He, and it invariably is a man, has a fascination with the number three. Two plus seven equals nine, which is the square of three." More eyebrows raised around the room. "Most serial killers latch on to a pattern of numbers, or letters, or words of some sort. It becomes part of their signature, and often becomes more important to them than the actual killing itself. Any deviation from that particular pattern throws them into a tailspin. Often it's knowing that pattern that is the key to us catching him.
"In this case, it's the number three. Also, all the killings take place on a Monday. That may mean something very important to him, or nothing at all. It could be directly related to the reasoning behind the killings, or it could simply be a random day he chose for the first murder, and he was so pleased with the outcome that it became part of his pattern."
"So what do you think is the reasoning behind the murders, Dr. Hill?" Catherine asked.
"Please, it's Tony," he said. She smiled and nodded. Satisfied, he continued, "Well, they're all Catholic priests, stabbed, and with their left hand removed. Beyond that, there seems to be no correlation between the victims themselves. Not background, education, hobbies, volunteer work, geography. Nothing but their vocation, it would seem."
"No pattern in the names?" Sara asked. "Alphabetical, an increase or decrease in the numbers of the letters? Anything like that?"
Not for the first time since he met her, he smiled in response to her quickness. He noticed Grissom did the same. "Good thinking, but unfortunately, we've tossed that idea out as well."
Undeterred, she tried again. "Prior abuse? Were any of these priests under suspicion or charged?"
He admired her determination. "Only two of the seven."
"Just because the others weren't accused doesn't mean it didn't happen," Nick offered.
Tony noted the soft look from Catherine to Nick. 'There's a story to be told,' he thought to himself. Out loud, he agreed, "Very true. And despite the lack of evidence, I think that's the connection, Nick. We've dug into the congregations of every one of these priests and have yet to narrow anything down. I fear it's a friend or loved one of the abused, which has made it almost impossible to limit the scope. I don't think the perpetrator himself was abused. The nature of the crime, and the crime scenes, leads me to believe it's not a crime of passion. There is something very methodical in the way he goes about his business, and there's no what I would call extra curricular damage done to the body, which I would associate with a more personal and direct connection. He's quick and precise, but not violent. I don't think he feels he's handing out justice; he's merely bringing attention to the injustice he feels is taking place. He doesn't see himself as the judge, he expects others to pass judgment for him."
"Which can explain the bloody handprints. They're a symbolic trail of crumbs, to lead to this man and say, "Look what he's done"," Grissom surmised.
"Exactly."
"So lay it all out and tell us what you need," Sara said.
"Okay, here's what we know. The first murder was on a Monday afternoon, sometime around, not surprisingly, 3pm. Father Reid was found in the confessional, as were most of the others. His left hand was missing. I would guess that the left hand is removed rather than the right because it's the hand one puts on a Bible in court." More nods all around. "Several days later, calls come in from nearby residents reporting blood smears of some kind on their door. Twenty seven doors in each case and the blood matched that specific victim. Twenty one days later, a second murder. Father Daniel Jacobson. Same pattern. Fathers Stephen Graham, Michael Finn, Jeremy Cameron, James Myles, and Paul Wilcox followed, all exactly twenty one days apart."
"Two plus one equals three," Warrick said.
Tony nodded. "The three could mean the number of people he knows, or thinks, were abused. Or it could be the number of years over which the abuse took place. The important thing to note is that number nine is coming up. If he really is acting on behalf of an abuse victim, and isn't one himself, the importance of this number to him could very well be the thing that makes him stop. After this one, he may simply slip back into obscurity."
Grissom spoke up. "What do you need us to do?"
Tony scratched his forehead. "Well, that's a good question, quite frankly. First, I'd like to go to the crime scene, if that's possible. Second. Well, that's a bit more the field of the police, whom I've been denied access to."
"So you've met Sheriff Mobley," Catherine cracked.
"Forget that for now," Grissom dismissed. "If we can do it on our end, we'll circumvent Mobley." All eyes went to him, and he gave a small smirk. "I'll deal with that if and when the time comes."
Now it was Tony's turn to smirk. "Find me a good English pub in this city and I'll treat everyone."
"Woo! I'm in, sign me up." Nick rubbed his hands together gleefully.
"It's boring work, I'm afraid. We need to get some idea as to who the next victim could possibly be. Unfortunately, I've had neither the time nor the resources to do any research into your local religious institutions. To be honest, I'm not quite sure where to start."
Warrick gestured towards the clock. "Whatever it is, we've got less than forty hours."
Grissom stood up. "Okay, here's what we'll do. Sara, you processed the crime scene originally, so why don't you take Tony back out. Catherine, you've got a DB stuffed in a box at the airport."
"Illegal immigrant or C.O.D?" she asked, the trace of a smile belying her innocent tone.
Grissom simply shook his head and handed her the assignment. "Nick, Warrick, I've got a trick roll at the Sands or you can stay here and do the background work for Tony."
Both young men raised their hands. "Research!" They looked at each other and pumped their fists three times. On the third downward motion, Nick kept his fist closed and Warrick held out two fingers.
"Damn," Warrick muttered.
Tony laughed out loud. "Rock, paper, scissors. I'll have to try that with the team back home."
Given their directions, everyone stood up and stretched. In turn, they shook Tony's hand before making their way to the door.
"Thank you, everyone," Tony said.
"Good luck," Catherine replied.
"Have fun, big boy," Nick drawled to Warrick before grabbing a large mug of coffee. "I have a feeling I'm gonna need this. I'll let ya know what I come up with."
"What are you going to do, Gris?" Sara asked.
"I'm going to go over the physical evidence again in our case and in Tony's. Maybe there's something we've overlooked. Come see me when you two get back."
Sara pointed her finger at him and pulled an imaginary trigger with her thumb. "Will do." She turned to Tony. "Ready?"
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