Rope Enough

by Brandgwen

Disclaimer: Profiler is the property of NBC and Sander/Moses. The Magnificent Seven is the property of Watson/Densham and CBS. The ATF universe belongs to Mog. I'm not making any money, I'm not worth suing.

Author's Note: This is an ATF/Profiler cross-over, inspired by the challenge put forward by Michelle Naylor. Background is gleaned from a number of ATF fics, in particular "How DID He Get That Car?", by Mog and "Your True Family", by Ruby. Thanks to to everyone who helped me with the background information.

Bathed in Moonlight

COLORADO STATE UNIVERSITY - FORT COLLINS, CO.

The last lecture for the day was Introduction to International Politics. A dry subject at best, but, when conducted from seven to nine in the evening, it was all but unbearable. The students were more than grateful when it came time to file out of the theatre. This was their cue to move briskly through the cool April night, to their cars or the nearby bus stop, then on to their warm, comfortable homes. Tonight that was not to be.

Creak, creak. The noise was subtle; maybe one of the trees moving in the stiff breeze. Nothing to alarm, but enough to attract attention. Enough to cause the odd person to glance in its direction. It was the sight that met such a glance that caused the stir. Bathed in moonlight, his head covered by a white plastic shopping bag, a man swung. He was suspended by the neck, from the bough of the tall tree beside the social sciences building.

Bailey Malone and John Grant strode purposefully through the noisy mass of onlookers. The area around the crime scene had been cordoned off the night before, when the local police had first arrived. Although the body had been cut down long before dawn, nothing attracted a crowd like police tape. Malone scanned the area, seeking the person in charge. Finally, a short, stocky man in a white shirt and tie spotted the two and approached.

"You the FBI?" he asked, louder that Malone would have liked. Several of the spectators turned their attention that way.

"Yeah. Agent Bailey Malone, Agent John Grant. You the guy in charge?"

The man nodded, but his expression betrayed how relieved he was to relinquish the duty. "We've been here most the night, taking statements, dealing with the crime scene. We thought we'd best remove the deceased before people started arriving for this morning's classes. No need to create more of a situation than we already got."

Malone nodded. Three bodies had been found in or around the university campus in the past two months, each a few weeks apart. Each had been struck unconscious on the head, then hanged by the neck, their hands tied behind their backs and their heads covered. This was the fourth and what had begun with morbid fascination and slight unrest, was quickly turning into public panic. No one needed another reminder of their own mortality.

"I assume you got crime scene photographs, bagged any evidence?" Grant was never one to trust the locals. He preferred to know who had done what, so he knew it had been done right.

"Oh, sure. We're getting pretty good at this, now. It was dark, of course, so we kept the scene in as good a condition as we could, just in case we missed something."

"And who found the body?"

"There were around twenty of 'em, just got out of a lecture. We got statements all 'round, before we sent 'em home."

"Okay," Bailey was ready to take over, "we'll get some of our guys to go over the scene, again. John, here will review the statements. Where's the body?"

"Local morgue, in the hospital."

"Right, we'll send our pathologist down there to have a look. I'm going to take our profiler through the scene and any existing evidence - see what she has to say."

The local detective smiled and nodded. Things were going to be done and he didn't have to do it.

Sitting in the office Bailey had been allocated, John leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Between the politics students, the lecturers and the cleaning staff, there had to have been at least thirty statements taken the night before. He had to admit, the locals had be thorough. Unfortunately, he was yet to find anything useful in any of them. Business as usual, until a man turned up dead in a tree.

John picked up the last remaining papers. Deftly, he skimmed the text, certain that if what he was looking for was there, he would pick it up. He was half way through the statement when he saw it; a man leaving the building around eight thirty. Possibly a junior lecturer or an older student, he had light brown hair, height around 5'8", build medium to slight. He had walked the path right past the corpse and glanced into the tree, before walking on. The cleaner who had observed him had thought the man saw something, but he had reacted with neither surprise nor horror. He had just continued on his way.

John hurriedly flicked through the remaining statements - nothing from a professor, nor student, fitting the description. "Hey," Grant accosted the nearest officer, "where is the statement from the guy mentioned here?"

The officer looked over the statement. "We couldn't identify him. Thought we'd ask someone from the faculty, this morning."

"So let's go."

Sam and Bailey stood just outside the tape that cordoned off the crime scene. Most of the crowd that had formed around the area had dispersed. Sam was glad to have escaped the sets of eyes. She had never worked out why people found the place where a death had occurred so fascinating. She found it disturbing, even after all this time. However, if you wanted to see justice done, some things had to be dealt with.

"From the position of the body, we're guessing the guy climbed out of a window of the history building, into the tree, dragging the body with him. Not an easy task," Bailey wondered how anyone could do that, without falling to their own death.

There was a silence before Sam began. "The bodies were found in very conspicuous places. Whoever did this has no interest in hiding his crimes."

Bailey raised an eyebrow. "So he wants to get caught?"

"No," she frowned, "not get caught. He goes to great lengths to ensure he isn't disturbed in the act. He moves under the cover of night and disposes with the body almost before the victim is missed," Sam paused, trying to articulate the vague abstract feeling she got from the scene, "but there's no shame, no remorse. The way the face is covered, its as if the victim is no longer a person. If the victim is not a person, the killer is not a murderer and there's no reason to disguise the deed."

"Interesting rationale. So what are we looking at, here?"

"The usual. White male, twenties, thirties. Reasonably strong, considering he carried the victims as a dead weight, and lifted them up to a height from which he could hang them. I want to talk to Grace, see what the bodies tell us, before I go any further with the profile."

"How about you go to the hospital, I go check on John."