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"What we have here, is a collector." Said Agent Hotchner to his team, "Who appears to be targeting a certain kind of woman. Blonde hair, blue eyes, slender build. Looking at the bodies we can see evidence of sexual assault, as well as torture. It seems to be personal to him, but he leaves the faces untouched."
"Perhaps to show that he values the face more than the body?" Asked Emily Prentiss from one side of the table they were sitting at, "Most women complain that men focus on their bodies, perhaps this guy likes a pretty face as well." Hotchner nodded before continuing on, "His most recent victim was Jo Merino, a graduate student at Old Dominion, 23, and a cheerleader. She certainly fits the profile. Having escaped, she's currently recovering in the hospital. Reid, Morgan, I want you two to head over there and interview her." The two nodded in acknowledgement before heading to the car provided.
"Man, those are the type of girls every guy likes. Blonde hair, blue eyes, long tan legs…" Morgan said with a shake of his head. "Hitler also put a strong emphasis on the Aryan features you know-" Reid started but Morgan groaned, "Man, this is why you don't have girls like that chasing after you. I bring up how hot they are, and you start talking about Hitler." A dry chuckle escaped the man's throat as they settled into silence.
The truth was, Reid was terrified. These were the type of girls every guy dreamed about, he did too at one point. Then he came to acknowledge that most of them were shallow, unintelligent, and out of his league. From then on the only thing attractive women brought him was shame and embarrassment, and he had to go interview one. He could already feel her judgemental glances towards him, and he could imagine her advances on Morgan. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. As much as he wanted to bring this guy to justice, he really didn't want to be the one interviewing victims…
Jo
After having several stitches and countless swabs and tests, Jo checked herself out of the hospital. But not before discovering that the girl she had attempted to save was far beyond her help. She felt sick to her stomach… They were all practice, he told her… Would there be more? She shivered and put her game face on, before flopping down on her couch in a pair of shorts and a long racerback tanktop. For a moment, she simply held herself, before getting up and putting on some hot water for tea. A knock on her door almost made her jump out of her skin. Sliding her hand on top of the refrigerator, she felt the familiar hand of her .38 pistol, and slipped it into the back of her shorts. Quietly, she crept to the door, peaking out the peephole. A tall dark-skinned man and a slender man with longish hair stood outside her door. She sighed a sigh of relief before opening the door, "How can I help you gentlemen?" She asked with a soft southern twang, keeping one hand in her back pocket near the gun.
"My name is Agent Morgan and this is Dr. Reid, we're with the FBI's behavioral analysis unit. May we come in?" One of the men asked. She nodded happily and stepped out of the way, "Please, make yourself at home. I've got some water boiling if you'd like some tea, or I could make coffee if you'd like." She offered, showing them to the small living room where there was an overstuffed armchair and a futon. Seating himself on the futon Agent Morgan shook his head, "No thank you, Miss. Although I will say you're pretty hard to find. You weren't at the hospital." He said, watching her with an observing eye. Reid followed Morgan, but slightly slower, taking in his surroundings. She had no television, but numerous bookshelves filled with old textbooks, and manuals. In the corner of the room there was a desk, seated by the window and next to the fireplace.
"Call me Jo." She said, before returning to the kitchen and making herself some tea and returning the gun to its hiding place. "And I have a midterm that I needed to study for as well as other…things I needed to attend to." She flopped down in the oversized armchair and tucked her legs beneath her as her right hand drifted lazily to cover the stitches on her left forearm. Feeling the tickle of the sutures, she let out a small gasp and looked down.
"Jo, I know this is hard for you right now, but I need you to tell me as much as you can about what happened today." Morgan said, glancing at Spencer. Spencer had a puzzled look on his face, but kept himself distant from the interview as he waited for her answer.
"I was jogging my normal route that I take every Thursday," She began, recounting the events. She repeated everything he said to her, word for word, and even began to mimick his mannerisms before she concluded her story and sank back into her chair. "I knew him." She said softly, wrapping her arms around herself, "He used my full name and I recognized him… I just can't think of where from…" The quiet seemed unnerving.
"Jo, what are you going to school for currently?" Spencer asked suddenly, and she jerked her head up and caught his eyes with hers. "I'm going for my master's in Public Health. Why do you ask?" Morgan understood was happening, as she spoke of her schooling she seemed to open up just a bit more. "I was curious, and what's your undergraduate degree?"
"Microbiology, but how does this pertain to the investigation?" She asked, and the wall was back up. "The unsub appears to be connected with you in some way, and somewhat scorned. Have you had any failed relationships recently?" Spencer continued on. "I don't have time for relationships, so no." She said sharply, before directing her eyes to her desk. The color drained from her face, as she saw what appeared to be a boquet of gerber daisies resting in a vase, "Those weren't here when I left…" She whispered, before warily walking over. A note was tucked within them, and she plucked it out gingerly. "Miss Merino I don't think that's wise-" Spencer started towards her, but he was too late.
"This isn't over, Jo Anne" She read in a hauntingly stoic voice. Spencer slipped on some gloves before gingerly taking the note and vase, "This may have finger prints." He said, examining the object. "He's been in my apartment…" She whispered, fear creeping its way into her voice. "Do you have any family or friends you can stay with in the area?" Asked Morgan, making his way over to them. "No, and I'm not leaving if I did." She said stubbornly, "I have practice in an hour. What are the chances he'll be there?"
"Watching? Perhaps, but I doubt he'd try anything. Are you sure you're up to that? After all, you just fought off a serial killer." Spencer asked with a hint of concern, before mentally kicking himself.
"The kid's right," Agent Morgan interjected, "why don't you take some time off? Agent Reid and I will remain here as your personal body guards so you'll have nothing to worry about." He shot her a dazzling, but reassuring smile and she returned it with one of her own. It was then that Reid noticed how beautiful she was. "Thank you, Agent Morgan. But I'll be going to practice." She said, before brushing past him. "Then so will we." Morgan countered with a determined smile, "And we're driving." The look she gave him could have killed a Navy SEAL dead where he was standing, but she stalked off to her room instead.
Morgan chuckled, "I think that one's going to be okay. So how are you feelin' Reid? Excited for your first cheerleading practice?" Spencer glared at him, "I think I would prefer to wait in the car."