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A/n all of the information mentioned in this chapter regarding South African Healers was pulled from a documentary video on you tube. Many thanks to my wonderful beta who suggested this type of unsub to me and did most of the research. You rock P.

Emerging Patterns

The next morning dawned early. Hotch had ordered them into the precinct at seven am, to begin again with the evidence they had from the various dumpsites and the bodies of the victims.

Reid arrived first with a large paper cup of steaming coffee in one hand and his messenger bag in the other. Every piece of evidence they had on the case including photos hung on the large whiteboard to the right of the room. He left his messenger bag on the table and went to the whiteboard. He stared at the map hanging to the left of the crime scene photos. His geographic profile didn't have a pattern he could figure out.

The victims lived in areas scattered all over the city and the outlying areas. The dumpsites didn't help either. He touched the red pushpin he'd used to mark the church where the last victim was found. His mind turned back to the night before the utter failure of his so-called date.

Why didn't they listen to him when he'd said that he'd mess it up?

"I thought I might find you in here brooding." Hotch said from behind him.

"Oh hello," Reid said absently. "I'm just thinking…

"You're thinking about last night. None of that was your fault. You couldn't have known an ex-boyfriend would show up."

Reid sighed and pushed up the sleeves of his white shirt. He was back to wearing a sweater vest and trousers. "I know Hotch… I shouldn't have needed Morgan to step in like that. Woman want men around that can stand up for them. I just stood there."

Hotch's face didn't break from its glowering mask. "So you think picking a fight with a man six inches taller, and about seventy pounds heavier than you, would've been a good idea?"

Reid opened his mouth, then closed it and rubbed his chin with his free hand. "Well, no, but I should've said something."

"Reid, you can Monday morning quarterback about this all day if you want. I prefer you get your mind on the case. You did the best you could. Not every man's an alpha male and I'm glad. Think of the trouble the world would have if we were."

Reid let a smile ghost over his face. "Yeah… I guess you're right. Sorry."

"Just concentrate on the case."

"Hotch?"

"What?"

"What does Monday morning quarterback mean?"

Hotch actually smiled. "I just meant that hind sight is twenty-twenty."

"Oh…"

Reid picked up his coffee cup and took a sip of the rapidly cooling drink. "At least we eliminated her as a suspect."

"Yes… If she were, the one she wouldn't have put up with her ex's stalking. He doesn't fit the physical type. If she were going to find surrogates to punish in his place, they'd look more like him than you." Hotch said as he took a sip of the coffee he'd brought into the conference room.

Rossi, Emily and Morgan all arrived at the same time. Emily carried a box of donuts, which she plunked down on the table at the same time the laptop pinged, and Garcia appeared. Her dark eyes twinkled with way too much enthusiasm behind blue frames that morning. He long read hair was tied back in a ponytail with a yellow flower perched just behind her left ear.

"Don't you ever sleep mama?" Morgan asked.

"Your concern over my well being warms the cockles of my heart handsome, but it's not necessary. I live for my computers."

The team smiled at her fond tone.

"What did you find?" Hotch asked in a tone aimed at bringing the conversation back to its rightful place.

"I've been monitoring the hits to Reid's profile. Our handsome young profiler has many admirers of both sexes."

Rossi and Morgan sniggered into their cups of coffee. Emily laughed aloud and Reid went scarlet. Hotch's mouth twitched but he didn't comment on Garcia's enthusiastic announcement.

"I ran all of them though my computers. A good many of these matches have false information in their profiles." She told them as if this were a big secret.

"Gee…" Emily said sarcastically. "And here I thought you were the only one to exaggerate a profile."

Garcia only smirked at her friend. "I'm just saying that it's difficult to weed out the prospects from the real thing."

"What do we do now?" Reid asked.

"You all doubt me." Garcia said. "I did find a couple of likely possibilities and I did it without your so-called profiling abilities."

"Tell us," Hotch ordered as the rest of the team hid smiles behind their hands.

"I'll start with Dr. Susan Cohen. She was born and raised in New York City. She moved here a year ago to head up the Natural Science Center. She has a doctorate in Anthropology from NYU. She just got back from an expedition in South America. She's twenty-seven and an only child. Her parents still live in New York City."

"I don't see any medical training." Emily said.

"I know, but don't anthropologists deal with dead bodies. She had to know something about anatomy." Garcia said.

"Actually, 'The revealing bodies traveling exhibit,' is set to open at the Natural Science Center on November 6th." Reid began to lecture. "It's an exhibit that exposes the secrets of the human body in unprecedented detail normally reserved for medical professionals. Visitors of all ages are invited to look deep inside 180 carefully preserved specimens. It's quite an exciting opportunity for the city."

"I'll add that to my list of things to do if we don't make it back to Quantico before the show opens." Rossi said dryly.

"We'll put her on the list. What else do you have?" Hotch asked, moving the conversation back to the case.

Garcia gave them the three more names including one medical student with South African heritage, another woman studying pharmacology at the university and another woman that worked for a mortuary.

Detective Docks arrived with a paper cup in his hands and another box of donuts, which immediately made him the most popular man in the room. He'd shut the door against the rest of the officers in the building who could smell donuts five miles away and traveling in the opposite direction.

"We've got news about the fabric taken from Mr. Davis's hand." He began. "It's one hundred percent cotton and hand dyed. There's only one place in the city that makes garments with this particular pattern and type of hand dying technique. "

"Zola's Medicine Shop." Garcia interjected.

Detective Docks raised his eyebrows. "Yes… How did you know that?"

"You'll find that Garcia can find the answer with minimal help from us." Rossi said.

"I'm impressed. What else do you know?" Docks challenged in his soft voice.

"I know that Ms Zola Kenyon was born in South Africa. She met Dr. Mitchell Kenyon when he was working as a type of doctors without borders in South Africa. They married there in 1985 and moved back here to North Carolina. That's all I have so far except that Dr. Kenyon died six months ago in a car accident."

"Good work Garcia. Rossi, you and I will go talk to Ms Kenyon and see if we can get a list of her customers. Reid, I want Emily and Morgan helping you today. See if you can set up date with Ms Cohen."

"Yes sir…" Reid agreed unhappily.

CMCMCMCM

"Why the long face?" Morgan asked Reid several hours later as the lunch hour approached.

"I don't think this is a good idea." Reid said morosely.

"You'll do fine." Emily said as Reid fidgeted with his second new outfit.

She slapped his hand away when he tried to stop her from rolling up the sleeves and buttoning his shirt. She'd undone the top two buttons and the bottom two so that the white tee shift he wore showed. "There… It's perfect. Touch it and I'll cut off your fingers." She threatened.

"Morgan!"

"Do not look at me pretty boy." Morgan leaned back against the table appraising Reid's look. "I told you never mess with a woman carrying a gun."

"This is too much for lunch at a museum."

"You look great." Emily said. "Stop stalling."

"I'm not stalling I just think that this is a bad idea."

"You'll be perfectly safe. I'm sure you'll sweep her off her feet and right into our arms if she's the one." Morgan said making a grand gesture with his arms.

"What's really bothering you?" Emily asked him, unable to take her eyes off his new look.

"The case is bothering me. It has all the signs of ritual rather than revenge or sexual motives."

He went to the white board and pointed to the photographs of the bodies. "Look at the way they're posed." He touched one picture, then another with long fingers.

"Yeah… there's no pattern." Morgan said.

"Yes there is," Reid disagreed. "They're all different sure, but there's a similarity. She could've just left the remains, but they're arranged in different patterns."

"So what are you trying to say?" Morgan asked.

"The report on the cloth found in Gary Davis's hand. It matches a type of costume worn by medical practitioners in South Africa called Muti. They use bones, skin, hair, or other personal items and sometimes coins when consulted for advice or for medical issues.

I watched a video on line that showed a healer throwing down these items and reading the patterns. The way the coins or bones fall, can attract love, good health, or protect the home among other things. Some healers promise luck by rubbing powders on their skin after washing and repeating some kind of positive phrase like "I'm going to get this job or win this game."

"Isn't that just the power of positive thinking?" Emily asked.

"Yes, but that's usually the root of magic like Muti or Voodoo. These healers know, even if they don't admit it, that the power of the mind is the most powerful thing of all."

"So you're saying that this un-sub arranges the bodies at the dump sites in a pattern like these healers."

Reid nodded. "South Africa has been dealing with Muti killings for years. Some of the practitioners kill people especially children, for certain body parts needed for their magic. The greater the pain inflicted on the person the stronger the magic. They are taking the person's life essences.

Most of the sangonas as they are called use only herb and plants in their medicine. There are some, though, that resort to human sacrifice.

Three quarters of the population of South Africa are treated with Muti medicine. They believe in it more deeply then western medicine."

"So you think she's trying to perform some kind of healing ritual." Morgan said.

"Yes. I just don't know what her end goal will be."

"All the more reason to charm this Susan Cohen," Morgan said.

"I don't know, I think Samara Nicosia is a better choice." Reid said. "She was born in North Carolina but she has South African heritage and she's a medical student. She might have more knowledge of Muti." Reid argued.

"Why don't we contact her and you can see her this afternoon if Ms Cohen is eliminated." Morgan advised, getting up from his place at the table as the sun broke through the clouds that had greeted them that morning.

"It's getting late." Emily said grabbing Reid's arm. "Let's get you to your next date."