Shorter chapter this week, guys, 'cause less needed to be said. More next week! I'd just like to take this moment to thank my anonymous and guest reviewers, who I can't thank through the normal channels : ) Your support means a lot, folks, thank you! (Especially stars like dianikis, who has checked in a couple of times 3 ) Pxx
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Essential listening – Lullaby, by Shawn Mullins
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It didn't matter how long you did this job, Grace mused, it never got easier when it came to children. She frowned down at the crime scene photos.
They looked almost peaceful, the two Halbert boys, but Grace was under no illusion that their last moments had been anything other than fearful.
"Home invasions typically involve the elderly and single females," Reid observed. "The fact that entire families are being killed suggests multiple UnSubs."
They had decided to complete their case review on the jet once Emily had noticed the significant acceleration of their cycle. If they wanted to stop another family from being murdered they would have to work fast.
"Could be gang-related, Morgan suggested. "Revenge motive, personal business."
"I don't think any of these victims are running in gang-circles," said JJ.
Grace had to agree. Unless these families had all banded together to combat crime in their area they were unlikely targets for gang violence. So far there was nothing to suggest that any of the families knew one another. The kids didn't even go to the same schools.
"Sewing circles more like it," Emily agreed. "PTA moms, grey-flannel dads – these guys are killing The Cleavers."
Grace looked up. Sensing there may be pop-culture that she was missing here, she leaned over to Morgan.
"Cleavers?"
"Old TV show about the perfect suburban life," he told her.
"Strange."
Hotch glanced at Reid.
"A pattern?" he asked.
"No, The Cleavers," Reid mused. "Of all the names for a 1950s idyllic TV family, it's rife with violent implications. Kinda makes you wonder how the writers really felt about suburbia, huh?"
"You never know what's going on in the house next door," Grace observed.
"Focus, please."
Reid winced as Hotch brought them back to task.
"Uh, okay," Emily began, "what about, um, class-based uprising? Helter Skelter?"
"There's no graffiti," Morgan argued. "No messages – at least, not visible ones. There's no ritual."
"Yeah, Manson's aim was to start a race war," Reid reminded them. "There's no proof of any hate crime here."
"Oh, I don't know," Grace supposed, looking at the wholesale slaughter in the living room. "I think I'd call that hate."
Hotch nodded.
"The parent murders are brutal. The instruments vary, uh –" he flicked through the crime scene photos. "Golf club, kitchen knife, iron…"
"Household implements, symbols of family," Morgan theorised.
"Weapons of opportunity," Grace put in.
"But the kids were different," said JJ. "They died by injection. Pento-Barbitol."
"It's a barbiturate," Reid told them. "Sometimes used as an anti-convulsant for epileptics, anxiety disorders – and state executions."
"Look at how they're laid out on their beds," said Grace. "Like they've been put to sleep."
"The invasions are well-planned," said Hotch. "Phone lines are cut, ligature marks show the parents were bound and gagged."
"Looks like these guys had some robbing experience," Morgan observed.
Emily nodded.
"And then found their true calling."
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They filed wearily onto the jet.
Of all the ways the case could have ended. This was probably the best: no further casualties, both UnSubs caught and an instant investigation of the Mainwarings by child services – all children seized.
Grace, Emily and Morgan had helped clear the kids out of the Mainwarings' house. The differences in behaviour and neglect between the boys and girls had been obvious. Clearly, Mrs Mainwaring had only cared for her girls.
It was going to be a while before they would get the image of a house with locks on every cupboard and all those pictures that Todd had destroyed out of their minds. So many photographs of apparently happy children.
"Tell me they restocked the bar?" Morgan sighed, as they piled on board.
"I called ahead," said JJ, not far behind.
Grace flopped down on the bench seat. As soon as they were airborne she wanted to be flat out and as far away from Cherry Creek, Colorado as her mind would let her be. Since the plane couldn't go fast enough she would have to make do with New Urath and Roger Zelazny.
She could hear Hotch quietly asking to hear the sound of his son's voice; Spencer was already absorbed in a chess puzzle he'd been working on. It had been a tough case all round.
JJ settled into the seat across from Emily, opposite the bench. All three women sighed.
"You okay?" JJ asked.
"Yeah," said Emily.
Neither Grace or JJ believed her. Emily looked lost. Grace had heard about her offer to take Carrie and she understood the other agent's sadness. Adoption was an enormous burden for a single, working woman to contemplate, but when you'd gone to that place in your mind it was difficult to back away from it again.
Just for a few minutes today, Emily had thought she might be a surrogate mother.
Knowing full well that she wouldn't be able to say anything to make her feel better, Grace got up and headed to the minibar, giving JJ the privacy she needed to help their friend. She always seemed to know what to say – it was JJ's forte.
It really wasn't Grace's.
"Starting already?" she joked.
Morgan was already pouring himself a scotch.
"Long day."
"Long day."
She pulled out three glasses and made up three rum and cokes. Morgan made no comment, but she noticed that he, too, was carrying extra measures when he passed her, presumably for Reid and Hotch.
She took the drinks back to the table, hoping she'd given JJ enough time. They exchanged a speaking look.
Whatever JJ had done had helped – Emily was less rigid than before – but she was still staring despondently out of the window.
Okay, though Grace, and pulled out her phone. Desperate times call for desperate measures…
By the time the answering text came through, the pilot was about ready for take off and the women had been sipping their drinks in an uncomfortable sort of silence. JJ was rummaging for snacks in the kitchen. Both she and Emily looked up on Grace's laugh.
"Well, that settles it," she said and grinned at Emily, who began to look wary.
"What?"
"You, me, JJ," she nodded at her, "and Garcia."
"What about us?"
"Cocktail bar, soon as we land." She flashed her phone at Emily. "Garcia's got us on some VIP list."
"Ooh, that's going to be messy," said JJ, sitting back down. She gave Grace a wry smile.
Grace looked at Emily, expectantly. She could see that her resolve was already wavering.
"Come on," she urged. "We'll drink brightly coloured things with silly names, we'll do karaoke…"
Emily gave something approaching a laugh and nodded, resigned.
"Good job we're not working tomorrow, then," she offered.
"If we're going out, I'm gonna need a nap," JJ declared, making a pillow out of her coat and jamming it against the wall of the jet.
"Capital idea," Grace congratulated her. She pulled out her book.
The next time she glanced up at Emily, her smile looked a little more genuine than before, a little less forced.
Grinning inwardly, she made herself as comfortable as she could be while upright on the bench and waited for take off.
The things I do for my team, she thought.