Though it had been some time since he had been asked to use his graphology skills on a case, Reid was not worried. Hand-writing analysis ultimately came down to the details, and Reid was good at loosing himself in the details. The evidence department had cut out the address from the tape's wrappings for him, setting aside the rest for Wayne. With gloved hands, he carefully placed the scrap down, maneuvering the table-mounted magnifying lamp so he could look at the writing.
The letters were messy, done with red marker which had bled through the thick paper. He concluded immediately that the writer was probably male, based on the angularity and geometry of the characters. Red was a strong, eye-catching color choice, not as common as blue or black, with ties to violence, aggression, and a desire to be noticed. Reid wondered if the writer chose it because it reminded him of blood. The color was identical to the red sharpie he wrote on his desk calendar with at work. He waved one of the techs over.
"Do you know if they've identified the ink yet?" Reid asked the young, bespectacled man.
"No, they're still running the sample through chemical and color analysis," the tech said. "It'll take at least a day if we can't narrow it down."
"Could you tell them to do a comparison to the ink used in red sharpies? The color looks almost identical."
The tech gave him a strange look, one that Reid was quite familiar with, but complied, ordering the analysis from the wall-phone in the other room. The tech's nod, and the awed expression on his face, a few minutes later confirmed Reid's suspicion, and he turned back to the paper.
At first he thought the sloppiness was the work of an unorganized writer, which would contradict the profile that they just established. For a moment, this worried him; a natural leftie in the UNSUB's age range would have learned to write without smearing ink, especially one who was so detail-oriented. The brief panic passed when he saw typical rightie characteristics, and realized that the writer was a strongly right-handed person using his left hand. This would disguise his handwriting, which fit better with the careful and meticulous UNSUB they were searching for.
The heavy down strokes and thick upstrokes showed that the writer used a great deal of pressure when he wrote, which indicated a strong, dominating personality and possible violent tendencies. The large spaces between words could either indicate a thoughtful planner, or a writer unfamiliar with the mechanics of writing with his opposite hand, which was likely considering the smeared ink. Reid sighed. Since the writer was using his opposite hand, it would be difficult to learn more, since distinguishing between mistakes and natural personality indicators was impossible beyond that, even for him. At least his analysis supported the profile they constructed so far. Still, it added precious little information and was dissatisfying.
Unless talking to the families or analyzing the tape yielded more information than the stubborn letters before him, it was likely the team would be forced to wait until the UNSUB screwed up to get any closer to closure. Reid hoped that the others were having more luck. He felt more invested in this case than usual. Dealing with bodies was part of his job, and he had built up considerable emotional and mental defenses over the years, but some cases still got to him. He had a particularly difficult time with cases involving UNSUBs who engaged in child predation for example. Apparently cases where the victims bore a striking resemblance to him also fell into the 'difficult' category.
Since the video analysis would likely take a little longer, Reid pulled the latest victim's file toward him. He hadn't finished it yet, and opened the file to where he'd left off, scanning the page. Apparently Sterling had been training for a local triathlon.
An idea began to form in his head. The coroner's report had noted that the first two victims had been in excellent shape and health at the time of their deaths. Had they been runners, perhaps? Reid ran intermittently, since the FBI had physical performance standards, and he found it to be the least unpleasant form of exercise. It had, however, given him the knowledge that many runners disliked being outside during the hottest months of the year. He certainly preferred to go to the gym when the mercury climbed up the thermometer.
He felt a hopeful twinge of optimism as he pulled out his cell phone. A quick call to Morgan and a few questions later, he had his answer. He decided it was time to talk to Hotch.
"Absolutely not," Hotch said, brows drawn down and close together over his dark eyes. They were back in the conference room, and Wayne had left before Reid laid out his plan for Hotch and Prentiss.
"You've discovered our first link between the victims, which was excellent work, but there is no way I'm going to give you the go-ahead to put yourself in danger when there could be other options."
"Hotch, this is our only lead," Reid said. "If we don't do something, he's just going to take another victim. You know he isn't going to give us anything by screwing up, not this early."
"The answer's still no, Reid," Hotch said, heading out the door. He paused, door half-open. "We still have time."
Reid threw up his hands, exasperated as Hotch left the room. Why was he being so irrational?
"Could you talk to him?" Reid asked Prentiss. "He won't listen to me, but he might listen to you."
" Reid…"Prentiss said, obviously choosing her words carefully. "I agree with Hotch. It doesn't make sense for any one of us to put ourselves in danger simply because it's the first feasible action plan we have. We should consider other options"
"It's the logical option. Otherwise we wait until he slips up or makes a mistake. How many kid's lives do you think that will take?" Reid asked rhetorically. "I've been here for years. I just wish people would start treating me like I can take care of myself. I think I've proven that time and time again."
Prentiss's hand rubbed her temple, and she cocked an eye-brow at Reid. The man looked like he would blow over in a windstorm. Still, he had become at least respectable with a gun, and more importantly, Prentiss herself would be backing him up at all times. The idea, she decided, deserved further consideration.
"What, no exact number?" She asked.
"On twenty-seven separate occasions during my time at the BAU, by my count," Reid said, only half-seriously. "Besides, There will be eyes on me at all times, so it's not like I'll be putting myself in danger."
" You don't think of using yourself for bait as 'putting yourself in danger'?" Prentiss, asked.
"Not anymore than I've been in before," Reid paused. "Significantly less so than some of our past cases. I've been putting myself in danger for the job since before you were on the team. I can handle it. Come on Prentiss, you know I'm right"
"…Alright," Prentiss said. "Alright. I'll talk to him."
Prentiss found Hotch exactly where she expected he would be. He held the coffee pot in one hand, pouring the last dregs into a dark green mug with a chipped handle, an intent look set on his face. She situated herself across from him, leaning back against the counter behind her.
"What's up, Hotch?" Prentiss asked.
"What do you mean?" Hotch apparently hadn't noticed her presence, and, uncharacteristically, looked almost startled for a second when she spoke. He placed the coffee-pot, not empty, back in its cradle, and his coffee mug beside it, then crossed his arms.
"Hotch, in the time I've worked beside you, I think I've gotten to know you pretty well, both as a colleague, and I hope, as a friend," She said. "You are one of the most dedicated men I've ever met. A man who puts the job… puts the case, before everything else, regardless of the consequences."
Hotch looked uncomfortable at this statement.
"But I just saw you reject one of the most reasonable courses of actions we have in this case, and I can't figure out why. This may be our best chance of catching this bastard before he kills another kid who won't even see it coming. So I'll ask again; what's up, Hotch?"
"I can't…" Hotch paused, obviously choosing his words with care. "I can't justify allowing a member of my team to walk straight in the hands of sadistic murderer. I can't put the case before everything… I know that now."
"This isn't Tobias Hankel, Hotch… and this isn't the Boston Reaper either."
Her words surprised Prentiss even as the slipped out of her mouth, but she forged on.
"It won't ever come to that. He'll be armed and ready. More importantly, he'll have the team backing him up at all times. I'll be backing him up."
Hotch moved suddenly, an invasion of the space between them that was obviously confrontational. He placed his hands on the counter on either side of her. Though his actions were obviously intended to intimidate, she met his stare evenly and undaunted.
"Agent Prentiss, in the future it would benefit you to know that I dislike having my motives called into question. As Unit Chief, I am fully aware that this is not the reaper case," Hotch said. Though he spoke calmly, Prentiss saw his eyes tighten; evidence of the emotions that broiled behind them. "As the man who put George Foyet bellow ground, I consider myself, in fact, to be the definitive expert on the matter."
"Fair enough," Prentiss said, matching his tone perfectly. "But, you have to admit that Reid's plan is looking like our best option right now."
Hotch looked down at his coffee mug, evidently deep in thought. Prentiss did not break the silence, leaving him no option but to either rebut or reluctantly agree with her. And as much as he would have liked to do the former…
"Thank you for your invaluable perspective on the matter, Agent Prentiss," Hotch said, removing his hands from the counter and picking up his coffee. "You point was well, albeit bluntly, made, and will be taken into consideration. Now, let's get back to work."
"Well, since I obviously haven't change your mind, what--"
"Prentiss… I just agreed with you."
"Oh…"
"'Oh' indeed," Hotch said, grimacing at the taste of his drink and setting the mug back on the counter behind her. "Let's go inform Reid."