Chapter Six
The following morning, the BAU team is at the site of the latest massacre. Reid, Morgan, and JJ are downstairs where the bodies of the gaming group were found. Rossi, Hotchner, and Prentiss are upstairs where the host's parents were found. Hotchner kneels down next to what appears to be a footprint on the floor. Apparently, the killer had stepped on one of the pizzas while he was killing the parents, leaving a tomato stained footprint behind, but one unlike any Hotchner had ever seen before.
"Hey Rossi," Hotch calls out, "What do you make of this?"
Rossi walks over to Hotch and kneels down next to him. His expression is one of just as much confusion as Hotchner's.
"It certainly looks like a footprint," says Rossi, "Look, there are the toes, and the arch. But it's unlike any I've ever seen."
"Look at the size of it," adds Hotchner, "It looks like at least a size 18."
"More like size 20," Rossi corrects him, "and it appears as though our unsub kills his victims barefoot."
"And look at the odd shape of the heel," says Hotchner, "Like the rear claw of a bird of prey almost. Or perhaps the prehensive foot of an ape."
"So what, an ape is on a killing spree?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, I'm just telling you what it looks like to me."
"Maybe someone born with some kind of physical defect?" asks Emily as she joins her two superiors in their conversation.
"The social isolation one gets from physical handicaps can have strong negative psychological effects," agrees Rossi, "Like Robert Hansen, for example, had a severe stutter."
Emily looks at the footprint more closely. "Maybe our unsub suffers from acromegaly? Maybe even hydrosephalus? Perhaps even both."
"So how is it none of the neighbors has seen a barefoot, seven and a half foot tall mongoloid in the neighborhood on the nights of any of the murders?" asks Rossi, "Something like that tends to stick out in a person's mind."
"Also, hydrosephalus causes severe mental retardation," adds Hotchner, "Whoever our unsub is, he's very good at covering up his tracks. I doubt anyone with below average intelligence could do so with such expertise."
"I was only following your lead with the clues," she replies defensively.
"I know," says Hotchner with a sigh, "But just like everything else with this case, the clues create more questions than answers."
Down in the basement, the rest of the team isn't doing much better. JJ is over by the stereo, looking through the CD's kept there. Spencer is looking through the book case at the titles of all their books. And Derek is looking everywhere else.
"You find anything JJ?" asks Morgan.
"Just a list of the Sword & Sorcery greatest hits," answers the blonde agent, "They have the musical soundtrack to Conan The Barbarian: 1982, Conan The Destroyer, Frank Bakshi's The Lord Of The Rings, Peter Jackson's The Lord Of The Rings, Willow, Conan The Barbarian: 2011, Dungeons & Dragons: The Movie, Excalibur, Dragonheart, Xena Warrior Princess: Seasons One through Five. You name it, they've got it."
"The perfect music to play D&D to I guess," says Morgan.
"Technically, they were playing Pathfinder," interjects Reid, "Although the roots of the Pathfinder game are steeped in D&D, so it's easy to get the two confused."
Morgan sighs. "What have you got kid?" he asks.
"These kids have spent a lot of time and money on their gaming library," says Reid, "I mean a lot. They have all of the most recent Pathfinder books. The core rulebook for D&D, Fourth Edition. Virtually every rulebook and game module for First, Second, and Third Edition D&D ever published. Judging from a preliminary count, I'd guess every copy of Dungeon Magazine and Dragon Magazine ever published. The classic Red Box D&D set from the 1980's. And . . . Oh . . . My . . . God."
"What?" asks Morgan, "What is it?"
Reid pulls a thin, white covered, paperback book down off the shelf.
"A near mint, 1974 original Dungeons & Dragons Rules Book, signed by E Gary Gygax."
"So?"
"E Gary Gygax!" says Reid, "The creator of the Dungeons & Dragons game! This is like . . . like finding an original first print of MacBeth signed by William Shakespear! A collector would pay a small fortune for this book!"
"Let me guess," says Derek, "You were a D&D geek in high school."
"Derek, I was a twelve year old child prodigy attending public school in Las Vegas. Of course I was a D&D geek. The classmates that I played D&D with were practically the only friends I had growing up. They were the only kids at school who didn't treat me like a freak."
"Well," says Morgan, "what I'd like to know is how come, with an entire arsenal of fantasy weapons on hand, not one of these kids tried to protect themselves? Even if the blades are dull, I bet they'd hurt like hell if you got hit with one. Look, there's The Atlantean Sword from the Schwarzenegger Conan films. There's Excalibur from the movie Excalibur. Sting from The Lord Of The Rings. McLeod's katana from Highlander. They even have Inigo Montoya's rapier from The Princess Bride."
Morgan takes the sword down from its wall mount and assumes a fencing stance. "Hello," he says in a bad fake Spanish accent, "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." Then he chuckles and puts it back on the wall. "Have you ever noticed how much Gideon looked like the actor who played Inigo?" asks Derek.
"Never seen it," admits Reid.
"What?" says Morgan, more than a little surprised, "How could you not have seen The Princess Bride?"
"Just never really appealed to me," he replies, "I'm kinda surprised you've seen it. Isn't it supposed to be a chick flick?"
"It was Garcia's pick for movie night that week," admits Morgan, "But I wouldn't call Princess Bride a chick flick. At least not in the strictest sense. It's got action, adventure, comedy, Billy Crystal, Andre The Giant. . ."
"Who?" asks Reid.
"Don't make me go over there to smack you," says Morgan.
JJ laughs at the banter between her two coworkers. Just then Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss all come downstairs.
"Well upstairs was a total bust," says Emily, "You guys discover anything?"
"Only that if these kids were still alive, Reid here would be their bosom pal," replies Derek.
"It makes no sense," says Reid, "The M.O. is the same in every case. Families and guests killed with sharp objects, their heads, sometimes spines or skins removed as trophies. But the victimology is all over the place. Teenagers, school children, swingers, now college kids playing D&D. Serial killers always have a type. So how is this guy choosing his targets?"
"That's the seventy million dollar question," says JJ, "If we can answer that we'll find our unsub."
"Well we better come up with something soon," says Hotchner, "Lieutenant Vasquez isn't very happy with our lack of progress. And to be perfectly honest, I can't blame her. But without a clear victimology profile, a proper psychological profile of the unsub is next to impossible."
Just then Morgan's phone begins to ring. Derek flips it open and puts it to his ear.
"Talk to me Baby Girl," he says.
"Hey, Sugar," says Garcia, "I've done some digging at the request of our very own Boy Wonder, and I may have come up with some interesting tidbits."
"Hold on, Garcia," says Derek, "I'm gonna put you on speaker phone." Morgan puts his phone down on the bloodied gaming table and presses the button for speaker. "Okay Sweetness, we're all here. Whatcha got?"
"A bottle of chocolate syrup and a can of whipped cream with your name on it," she replies.
"Penelope," says Hotchner in his 'This is serious' tone of voice.
"Okay," says Garcia, suddenly serious, "As requested by the brilliant Dr Spencer Reid, I began looking into other murder cases with a similar M.O. to your unsub."
"And?" prompts Hotchner, "What did you find?"
"A lot," says Penelope, "Though I'm not sure if it's what you're looking for."
"How do you mean?" asks Rossi.
"Turns out, skinning and beheading your victims is far more common than I thought," she says, "It mostly happens to soldiers in war torn countries. African countries torn by civil war, Iraq, Afghanistan, Central America, Vietnam during the 60's and 70's, Korea during the 50's, The South Pacific during World War 2, the list goes on and on. I found a story about an American Cavalry garrison that stopped responding to correspondence in New Mexico during the 1800's. A platoon of soldiers were sent to investigate, and found the whole garrison slaughtered, hanging by the rafters by their ankles with their skins removed. The soldiers blamed a nearby Apache village for the massacre, and took their revenge. They went in and killed every man, woman, and child in that village. Then there's a very old Apache legend, this one originates around Arizona. It speaks of an evil spirit which used to skin it's victims. Then an Apache warrior lured the spirit into a cave, and trapped it in there by bringing a rockslide down over the cave entrance. To this day, that land is considered cursed by the Apache people and they will not build their homes or businesses there. In some versions of the tale of Beowulf, Grendel would take the skins of his prey. Some versions of Thesius & The Minotaur claim the same thing about the Minotaur. In ancient Egypt, they believed a monster called The Sta, which was said to skin their victims alive."
"Garcia, sweetie," says Morgan, "I've spent all morning downstairs in Geek Heaven with Reid. I'm about all Sci-Fi'd out. Could you please skip the Myths & Monsters and cut to the chase?"
"Sorry," says Penelope, "Okay, so I think I found the case that's the gristle stuck in the teeth of Dr. Reid's brain. One of the more recent examples of killers using this modus operandi took place in Los Angeles back in 1997. At the time there was a major turf war between the Colombian and Jamaican drug cartels. The Anti-Narcotics Task Force, headed by a Lieutenant Mike Harrigan, and the LA SWAT team, had some Colombian gangsters pinned down in a fire fight. The Colombians retreated into a building where they had stockpiled enough guns, ammunition, and explosives to hold off a small army. But shortly after they barricaded themselves inside, someone wiped them all out in close combat, then just disappeared."
"Close combat?" says Reid, "You mean . . ."
"Hand to hand, with bladed weapons, just like your unsub."
"So he was laying in wait for them?" asks Hotch.
"I don't know," admits Garcia, "The report just says that by the time Harrigan and his team reached the Colombians, they were all dead. And what's more, one of them was gutted like a deer, and hung by his ankles from the skylight."
"Just like our unsub," says Prentiss.
"Yeah, but it gets weirder," says Garcia, "According to the coroner's office, there was no Colombian hanging from the skylight by his ankles. He just vanished."
"There are definitely similarities between these two cases," says Rossi, "But I don't see how they relate to each other."
"Wait," says Garcia, "There's more. See, the next night the Jamaicans attack a Colombian mob boss in his home while he was with his girlfriend. They gunned down his bodyguards, strung him up by his ankles, then cut out his heart in a voodoo ritual. Almost immediately after, the unsub showed up, killed all the Jamaicans, hung them up by their heels, and skinned them like rabbits."
"That definitely sounds like our unsub," says JJ.
"When Mike Harrigan's partner, a Detective Danny Archuletta, went back to the crime scene to investigate further, the killer was waiting for him. He didn't just gut and skin the detective. He boned him like a fish. There was barely anything left but chunks of flesh."
"Oh God," gasps JJ.
"Damn!" says Derek.
"I know," says Garcia, "Anyway, Lieutenant Harrigan called a meeting with King Willy, the head of the Jamaican drug cartel, in order to find out what he knew about the killer. If King Willy knew who the killer was, he didn't tell the lieutenant. But he certainly wasn't a friend of the Jamaicans, because a few hours later, King Willy's body was found lying in an alley, minus a head."
"The unsub killed him," says Rossi matter-of-factly.
"That same night, the killer attacked a subway train that Detectives Leona Cantrell and Jerry Lambert were riding on. He killed several passengers, including Detective Lambert."
"What about the other detective?" asks Reid, "Cantrell?"
"She survived," says Garcia, "Remarkable her and her unborn child were relatively unharmed."
"What?" says Emily.
"Yeah," replies Penelope, "She was about six weeks pregnant at the time. I'm not even sure if she knew. In any event, the killer ripped out Detective Lambert's skull, spine and all."
"Just like the host of that Gay Pride Party back at the hotel!" exclaims Reid.
"Exactly," agrees the computer analyst.
"So did they catch the killer?" asks Rossi.
"Unknown," replies Garcia.
"What do you mean unknown?" asks Hotch.
"I mean unknown," she replies, "The killings stopped as quickly as they started. But there were no arrests made. No reports of suspects being fatally wounded. No reports on the identity of the killer. The murders just . . . stopped."
"Well then we'll just have to get the information straight from the source. Reid, I want you and Derek to fly to Los Angeles tonight and talk to Lieutenant Mike Harrigan and Detective Leona Cantrell. Find out what we're dealing with. A copycat, or the same unsub."
"I'm sorry sir, but that's not going to work," interjects Garcia.
"Why not?" asks Hotchner.
"Because they're gone."
"Dead?"
"No, not dead. Just gone. At about the same time the killings stopped, Mike Harrigan and Leona Cantrell just disappeared without a trace."
"How could they just disappear?"
"I don't know. According to their CO, a Captain Brian Pilgrim, they were working with a special task force sent by the DEA, run by a Special Agent Peter Keyes."
"So we'll ask Agent Keyes."
"We can't," she says, "He's dead. Killed by the unsub they were tracking."
"Then we'll talk to his superiors," says Hotch, getting a little frustrated.
"I already tried that," says Garcia, "The DEA has no record of an Agent Peter Keyes ever having worked for them."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying whoever Peter Keyes was, and whoever he was working for, it wasn't the DEA. If he was a government agent at all, he's way above my paygrade."
"Oh come on, Baby Girl," says Derek, "You can find anyone on The Net."
"Could and should are two different things, Sugar," she replies, "If the government has buried Peter Keyes true identity this deeply, my digging it up will lead to my own sudden and unexplained disappearance."
"Oh come on," says Morgan, "You don't really believe that, do you?"
"If the CIA were willing to shoot JFK, what do you think they'll do to little old me? I love you, Sweetie, but I am NOT taking a bullet for you."
"That's fine, Garcia," says Hotchner, "You're probably right. If the government had in fact buried Peter Keyes' true identity, digging it up will likely get you into a lot of trouble. Is there any other information you can give us?"
"Well there are a couple of things," she says, "In every confirmed instance I could find of people being found without their skins, they always seem to occur during the hottest days of the year. When there's a major heat wave, people lose their skins. Also, the people always seem capable of defending themselves. Soldiers, police, civilian militias, whatever. Oh, and one last thing."
"Yes?" prompts Hotchner.
"I almost hate to mention it," she says, "I really don't know if it will help at all."
"Just go ahead and say it, Baby Girl," says Derek, "We can't use information we don't have."
"Okay, you know those trashy tabloid newspapers with the weird headlines? Things like Elvis Presley Spotted Working At Carwash In South Dakota, or Bigfoot Is The Father Of My Baby."
"Yeah?"
"Well, a number of them had articles on UFO sightings, alien sightings, and ghost hauntings in the Los Angeles area. And they all correspond with the last day of the killings, and Lieutenant Harrigan and Detective Cantrell's disappearance."
"Are you saying that extra terrestrials are involved in this case somehow?" asks Derek.
"All I can do is tell you what I found, and that's what I found."
"Okay, that's the last time we're watching Men In Black on movie night," says Derek, "I'll talk to you later."
"Bye guys," says Penelope.
The rest of the team says goodbye, then Penelope hangs up. Derek picks up his cell phone then closes it and puts it away. They all stand around, looking at one another.
"So," says Prentiss, trying to break the uncomfortable silence, "What now?"
"Call Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones and ask for their help?" suggests Morgan in an attempt to lighten the mood.
"I'm sure Penelope could find their phone numbers for us without too much trouble," says JJ, always willing to add her two cents into a good joke.
"Enough," says Hotchner, ever serious as usual, "Garcia gave us a lot of information today. Let's go back to the hotel and go over it. Between that and the evidence we have from this case, we should be able to put together a working profile for the local police."
The team heads back upstairs and moves towards the front door. As they're leaving, Reid catches a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. He quickly turns around to see what it is, but sees nothing there. Still, he has the oddest feeling that he's being watched somehow. He steps back away from the door.
"What's up kid?" Derek asks him.
"You guys go on ahead," Spencer tells them, "I'll stick around here. I've got an idea on how the unsub might be picking his targets. I wanna check it out."
"Want some help?" asks Morgan.
"Nah, you go ahead. I'll let you know if I come up with anything."
"Yeah right," says Derek with a chuckle, "You probably want to stick around so you can read all thos D&D books."
"Don't be rediculous," says Reid, then with a grin he adds, "I already have them all memorized."
Derek laughs out loud, then heads over to his SUV. Spencer watches them all drive off. As soon as they're out of sight he let's the smile fade from his face. He closes his eyes and listens intently to the sounds of the house. It's eerily quiet. Placing one hand on the handle of his side arm, Spencer carefully walks through the house, checking room after room. First the main floor. Nothing. Then upstairs. Nothing still. Then the attic. More nothing. Finally he goes back down into the gaming room set up in the basement. As empty as ever. Spencer let's out a sigh. His greatest fear is that he will go insane, like his mother, and wind up in a mental institution just like she did. All these fleeting, blurry images he keeps seeing. If they're all in his head, what does that mean about his sanity?
Just as he decides to head back to his hotel room and get some sleep, Spencer turns around and finds himself staring at a shimmering humanoid outline that's standing only a few feet in front of him and stands well over seven feet tall. The image steps forward, the shimmering ends, and he's now facing a very tall reptilian humanoid with tendrils hanging from its head like dreadlocks and a metal mask over its face. It's entire body is covered with a fishnet like garment. There are metal gauntlets on its forearms, with various lights and gadgets built in. Something that Spencer hopes to God is a camera is mounted on the creature's shoulder. What little clothing it has on appears to be made out of some sort of leather. Around the creature's left arm is a leather strap, mounted upon it is a small metal disk with symbols etched upon it. Once the shock has worn off, Spencer immediately goes for his gun. Quicker than he thought possible for one so large, the creature grabs Reid by the throat with his right hand and lifts him into the air, while his left hand grasps Reid's wrist and prevents him from drawing his weapon.
As he dangles in mid air, Reid can feel the power in this creature's hands. It has the power to snap his neck like a twig, but has yet to do so. It's grip on his throat, while tight enough to keep him aloft, is not enough to keep him from breathing. For some reason, Reid gets the sense that while this creature could kill him easily, that it really doesn't want to.
"You've . . .been . . . following me . . . around," Reid chokes out.
The creature nods it's head.
"Why?"
The creature tilts it's head to the side, as though unsure how to answer. Reid decides to stick to Yes & No questions.
"Are you the one doing the killings?"
As he suspected, the creature shakes it's head.
"What are you?"
Suddenly three red lasers, like the laser sighting of Reid's gun, ignite from the creatures shoulder equipment. They run over Reid's body, until finally setting upon his FBI badge and ID. After focusing on that for a moment, the lasers shut off and the creature releases Spencer's wrist. It taps on Reid's FBI badge with a clawed finger, then places it's hand upon its chest.
"You're a law enforcement officer?" asks Reid.
The creature nods it's head again.
"Can you please let me down now?"
The creature lowers Spencer to the floor. Reid bends over, rubbing his throat and coughing. Once he has his breath back fully, he stands up straight.
"Who are you?" he asks.
The creature taps the metal disc he wears on his arm, then points to Spencer's FBI badge again. Then he motions to Spencer, then himself.
"I understand, you're an officer of the law, like me. But what is your name?"
The creature tilts it's head to the side as though it doesn't understand.
"My name," says Reid, indicating himself with hand gestures, "Is Doctor Spencer Reid . . . Spencer . . . Reid. What is your name?"
The creature begins making gargling sounds. Then Reid can distinctly hear the words "Spencer Reid" and "What is your name" being spoken over and over, as though by a computerized synthetic voice. Then, to his utter amazement, he hears his own voice coming back at him.
"Your name . . . is . . . Spencer Reid."
"Yes! Good!" says Spencer excitedly, "What is your name? Yours."
The creature begins to look around the room, as though seeking a clue as to what to tell this human. It's gaze falls upon the gaming table, and the blood soaked books which lie upon it. Once again the creature turns on the triple laser on his shoulder and begins drawing the beams across the book covers. It stops at one book, then picks it up and hands it to Reid. Spencer looks at the blood caked cover. Printed in gold lettering upon a glossy brown cover, reads the words The Quintessential Ranger by Mongoose Publishing. Reid looks up at the creature.
"Ranger?" he says, "Your name is Ranger?"
Once again the creature begins mimicking Reid's voice until he is saying "Ranger . . . My name is . . . Ranger."
"How about the one who's doing the killing?" asks Reid, "Is he from the same place as you?"
Ranger nods his head.
"Who is he? Why is he here?"
Ranger cocks his head to the side, then turns back to the gaming table. After a moment's consideration, he picks another book from the table and hands it to Reid. The design is virtually identical to the first one he had handed Reid, but the title of this one reads The Quintessential Rogue by Mongoose Publishing.
"So his name is Rogue?" asks Reid, "Or are you saying he is a rogue?"
Ranger nods his head.
"Which is it? One or the other?"
Ranger nods his head again.
"What are you saying? That it's both?"
Ranger nods again.
"Okay, so it's both."
Reid figures that it's going to take forever to get any information out of Ranger by the Yes & No method. So he decides he's going to have to teach this alien creature how to speak English. He looks about the room looking for something to help get them started. He grabs one of the chairs from the table, then pats the back rest.
"Chair," he says, "Chair."
Ranger goes through his mimicry process once again, until he is saying "Chair" back to Reid over and over again in Reid's own voice. Reid sits down in the chair.
"Sit," he says, "Sit."
Ranger pulls out another chair, then sits in it. After a moment he's saying "Sit," in Reid's own voice.
"You sit in the chair," says Reid, which Ranger eventually mimics back in his own voice.
"This is going to be a long night," groans Spencer, then he looks around for another English lesson. A second later he hears his voice saying back to him, "This is going to be a long night."
He looks back at Ranger and can't help but smile at the mimicry. Granted, he can't tell if that was done as a joke by this alien cop or if it actually thought that that was part of the lesson. Either way, he appreciated the levity.