JJ isn't surprised when Ed is quiet on the way to the station. They refrain from asking him anything further while in the car with Crawford. She's already suspicious and uncooperative enough, no reason to make her think that there's conflict on the team.
Ed hisses and rubs his shoulder.
"You okay?" JJ asks, concerned.
"Just… gonna rain," he says, brow furrowing.
"It's been overcast since we got here," Derek says. "It's not really a surprise."
Jaw tense, Ed manages to grit out, "Sometimes it makes phantom pains act up."
It's JJ's turn to frown. "I thought your prosthetics prevented phantom pains."
He shakes his head. "Lessens them," he elaborates. "They don't happen as often or as severe, but I still get them."
Derek looks over his shoulder from where he is seated at the front, and meets JJ's eyes. He hid phantom pains from the team for three years. They're together way too often, under too many changing circumstances and locations for it to have never caused issues around them. Ed just… hid it so well they never noticed.
Some profilers they are. Before his reveal of his arm, JJ forgot that Ed even had a prosthetic leg most of the time.
"Got a prosthetic?" Crawford asks.
"Leg," Ed says shortly. "Bum shoulder too," he adds, to explain why he was rubbing it.
"My pap was an old miner," Crawford says. "Says he still misses the foot he lost."
They manage to get into the station just before the rain starts coming down in sheets, but it's obvious from the way he's moving that Ed is in pain.
"There's not anything…" Derek trails off as Ed shakes his head.
"Just gotta get through it," he says. "Best thing is to keep busy." He limps over to the board that the locals put up, which includes pictures of the victims, what's known about them—which isn't a lot. Penelope's working on them back at Quantico, but even Penelope takes time to find information, especially since some of the faces had been targeted by wild animals. Only some of them though.
The storm that had been threatening intensifies, the rain finally falling, and Derek and JJ both take turns trying to get Crawford to talk, though Ed ignores her. Whether he is in a bad mood because of his phantom pain or this whole case, or a combination of both, he's more snappish and surly than usual, and Ed's usual isn't particularly friendly at the best of times. As a general rule, they don't make Ed the point person for LEOs because his unique combination of arrogance and insubordination tends to make law-enforcement types twitchy. He's much better with victims, especially children, so it's not much of a liability under ordinary circumstances. He never seemed to take issue with first Hotch, now Emily's authority, it's just anyone else's that gets his back up.
Penelope has just finished giving them an update while the others are canvassing in the area. Ed had been listening, but he's also roaming and fidgety—far more so than normal—when he freezes and pales. He reaches across a desk, picking up a small frame—a little 2x3 inch that wouldn't fit anything larger than a wallet-sized photo, staring at it like he's seen a ghost.
"Crawford," he says. There's something in the way he says Crawford's name that raises the hair on JJ's arms, something that feels ominous and heavy and afraid. "Who is this?" He turns the photo, and Derek and JJ move closer to get a better look.
It's an older picture, predating the widespread digital use. It's of a young man, no more than twenty. He has dark hair, short on the sides, slicked back on top, dark stubble shading his jaw, and rectangular, thin-framed glasses with dancing green eyes behind them. He's rugged but not unattractive, with the kind of face that looks like it laughs a lot.
In two big strides, Crawford steps forward and snatches the picture out of Ed's hand. "That's private," she says.
"Who is he?" Ed demands.
"Dead," she snaps back, cold and clipped, clearly unwilling to discuss.
" Who is he ?" Ed repeats, getting into her face.
"I told you, he's dead. What does it matter?"
Ed actually yanks on his braid in frustration, looking like he might just wring it off. "Because our unsub is trying to resurrect someone with dark hair like this. Because he's trying to bring back someone who he loved, who he lost tragically. Who is this and how did he die? Was it about ten years ago? Did he have a sibling?"
Crawford walks behind what must be her desk and sets the picture back in its place with care, but she doesn't say anything.
Derek glances her way, and they exchange looks. They don't know why this man's picture has unsettled Ed so much, why he zeroed in on it, but they can tell from Crawford's reticence that Ed's probably on the right trail.
JJ steps forward. "Deputy, I know this is hard for you, but the person we're looking for has already killed seven people that we know of and is going to kill more if we don't stop him," she says in her kindest, most reasonable voice. "We know he's local because he knows the area too well to be transient, and in a population this small, you probably know him," she says. Crawford slowly lifts her eyes to meet JJ's. JJ reaches over to pick up the frame and put it back in Crawford's hands. "Who was this?"
Breaking their eye contact, Crawford sinks into her seat with a shuddering sigh. "Hugh," she says, staring at the tiny frame. "He was… he was my boyfriend. High school sweethearts. I know it's trite, but, he was…"
"Kind," Ed offers. "Not 'nice' or anything stupid like that. He was kind—in the way that word is supposed to mean."
Crawford looks up at him with surprise. "Yeah," she says. "He was kind." She looks back down at the picture. "Always happy, always ready to help out with anything. He was… the best. Everyone who ever met him loved him."
"What happened?" JJ asks gently.
Crawford takes a deep breath, sniffs a little, and sets the frame back into place with care. "He was murdered," she says. "Hitchhikers. He picked up a couple, and they murdered him." She attempts a laugh that sounds more like a sob, then adds, "Always trying to help."
"Did they ever catch the people responsible?" Morgan asks.
"Yeah," Crawford says with a snort. "Went over a guardrail only a mile or so from where they left Hugh to die on the road. Turns out they'd killed a few Good Samaritans like that."
"Did he have a younger sibling?" JJ asks as gently as she can.
It takes a moment, but Crawford slowly nods. "Yeah," she says. "Tucker." Out of the corner of JJ's eye, she sees Ed flinch as if slapped, but she can't risk sparing him the attention. Crawford takes another deep breath before continuing. "Tucker Maes. He was Mr. and Mrs. Maes' miracle baby. Mrs. Maes had a rough pregnancy with Hugh, and they didn't think they could have any more, so Tucker's about twelve years younger than Hugh was."
"How old was Hugh when he died?" Ed asks. When JJ flicks a glance over to him, he still looks unnervingly pale, but she can't focus on it now.
"Uh, he used ROTC to get through college. He was halfway through his four years and was home on leave. He was twenty-four." Her eyes stayed fixed on the tiny picture. "He was always the one taking pictures, so we don't got a lot of him. The formal military ones just didn't seem right."
"Where's Tucker now?" Derek asks gently.
Crawford finally looks back up. "Family home. The Mr. and Mrs. passed two years back. Mr. Maes from a heart attack. We say the Mrs. went from a broken heart, 'cause she was gone a few months later. They weren't young when Hugh was born. I think the Mrs. was almost fifty when Tucker was born."
"Tucker," Ed says, and something about the way he says the name sends up red flags in JJ. "How'd he feel about his brother?"
"Adored him, of course," Crawford says as if anything else is unthinkable.
"Does Tucker have access to a barn?" Ed asks.
Crawford stares at him. "Tucker wouldn't do this," she says, but even she doesn't sound like she believes it.
"Deputy," JJ says, intercepting her before she can get defensive. "We have over a dozen missing people, and seven already dead. Does it hurt to do a home visit to clear him?" Crawford's attention swings back to JJ, and JJ presses. "Once he's cleared, we can refocus."
"Okay." Crawford nods, standing back up. "Might as well get this over with."
They head out the door, ducking into the police SUV as quickly as they can, and are on their way. Thunder rumbles, but none of them suggest waiting until the storm has passed.
.o0o.o0o.o0o.
AN: For my non-US readers, ROTC (pronounced R-O-T-C or "rot-see" depending on who you're talking to, I know people who called it both) is a military program (Reserve Officers Training Corps) where the military pays for your some or all of your college while the student is also partaking in programs to be a military officer. After you graduate, you're required to serve a minimum time in the military after graduation (from my friends who did ROTC). Hugh was halfway through his required 4 years post-graduation, which is why he was 24.
Also, to the Anonymous who asked on my Tumblr if we would see any doubles-now you know why you got the RAFO card. Nice guess! I hope the RAFO card wasn't too jarring.