"That's a good question." Matt agreed. "You want to know what I wonder? I wonder if maybe our guy Philip might know the answer."
JJ took that point into consideration. It made a great deal of sense. If Chapman had something to do with Tina and Curtis knew it that would go a long way to explain his contempt; which to her estimation went way beyond simply disdain for the veneer a place like Lewiston held up.
"We could go ask him." JJ suggested. "He knows we're here, anyway."
Matt raised an eyebrow. "Do you think Chapman would let him talk to us without him present?" He asked.
"That was during the interview. We're not in the interview now." JJ pointed out. "Besides, does Philip Curtis really look like the kind of guy who heeds authority, even when it's in his best interest to do so?"
"You have a point there." Simmons conceded. "Let's go see what Philip Curtis has to say when he's not suspect, but more of a character witness instead, shall we?"
"Yes, let's" JJ agreed as they both got out of their minivan to cross the street to knock on the door of the room which Philip was staying in.
Philip Curtis opened the door, saw that it was the FBI knocking and rolled his eyes. "I was advised not to speak to you without my attorney present." He said plainly as he started to close the door again.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Curtis," JJ said quickly. "Before you turn us away you need to understand that you are not a suspect anymore, but we really believe you might be able to help us solve this case. It's clear to us that you might not like this town or very many of the people who choose to live here, but I don't believe you actually wish to see any more of them get hurt or killed."
"Based on what we have seen regarding this case so far, we really do believe it has everything to do with what happened twenty years ago." Matt added. "I'm sure it comes to you as no surprise that everybody else in town is being very tight lipped about that; you might be the only one we can turn to that can shed some light on the matter."
Philip hesitated, looked both of them over. Finally he said to JJ. "You're from a town like this one, aren't you? I'll bet you were a popular girl, but not a bitch. You were one of the so-called upper class that was actually cool to everyone; even the outsiders. Am I right?"
JJ smiled lightly. He wasn't too far off the mark at all; but then again, she figured, she probably still wears that small town girl on her like a favorite coat. "That's pretty close." She admitted. "Why do you ask?"
Philip looked down at his inner left forearm and held it up slightly to show them the daffodil tattoo. "Like I told your buddy back in the room; my whole life story is skin deep." He said. "Tina was kind of like you. Hell, she might have been you if she didn't top herself off."
Matt had taken half a step back, JJ noticed. He was letting her take lead; it was pretty clear that Philip was more willing to talk to her, anyway. That was evidently because on some level she reminded him of Tina Larson. Her suicide took place after their break up, but it still hit Curtis hard. In fact, it still had a profound impact on him, even twenty years later. JJ could relate; her sister's suicide still hit her every once in awhile. She sometimes likened it to getting suddenly getting hit in the face with a spade shovel.
"I realize this is probably very difficult for you to talk about," JJ started. "Believe it or not, I can imagine what it's like. But I do have to ask you; do you have any other inkling as to why she committed suicide?"
"What, you mean other than having to live with the rape?" Philip asked, sounding a little more sarcastic than he probably meant to.
"Yes," JJ answered, choosing to ignore the sarcasm.
"Well, maybe that jackass Stan Evans basically dumping her right after it happened couldn't have helped. Is that what you're looking for?"
"Wait a minute." Matt interjected. "You mean Stan Evans the Quarterback, right?"
Philip Curtis visibly bit back a smart remark. "Yes, that's right." He confirmed. "Tina and Stan started dating after she and I broke up. And before you ask, I'll tell you that did not have anything to do with any of the animosity between Stan and me. Up until high school, Stan and I were pals. Then I got into art and he got into sports. Then he started hanging out with those assclown jocks." He glanced over at JJ, "No offense if you were also a sports girl. I mean Kyle, Kenny and Eric specifically, not generally."
"None taken," JJ said, shrugging. "Go on."
"There's not a lot more to say, really." Philip said. JJ noticed he was avoiding eye contact; which was a first in this conversation. He was holding out.
"Did they ever catch whoever it was that raped her?" JJ asked.
"No," Philip answered. "She gave a description, but it was later concluded that whoever it was got out of town; maybe across the border into Canada. Dustman even got a report from a border guard of a guy matching the description a few days later."
"So that's the story." JJ said. "And you believe it?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Philip shot back, his sarcasm coming out of him full blast. "I mean, how could it be anything else in this postcard of a town, right?"
This time, SSA Jennifer Jareau chose not to ignore his sarcasm, but to play off it in a subtle manner instead. "Have you had any other theory, by any chance? I mean, some law enforcement were quick to jump on you as a suspect. I would imagine that at some point you gave the whole matter some thought..."
"Who, me?" Philip replied, still in his full color. "Not at all! All I know is that the Untouchables as they were called then were also inseparable, and that Stan didn't like taking no for an answer."
"Are you saying that you think Bernstein, Cunningham, Evans and Chapman raped Tina Larson and then used their status and the positions of their fathers to fabricate a narrative to cover it up?" Matt asked. "Why would any town officials do that?"
"I didn't say that." Philip replied; nothing but dead sincerity in his eyes. "You did." He turned to JJ. "What did you say your name was?"
"I'm SSA Jennifer Jareau of the FBI." JJ answered.
"JJ to your friends and colleagues, I bet." Philip nodded. "Agent Jareau, you come from small town America, right? Maybe you can tell Agent Simmons there just how far places like this will go to protect their own; their identity, their image, and if they have it their winning team." He paused and let that ugly truth that JJ never much liked but understood all too well sink in for a second. "I think I've said all I'm going to say on the matter, agents, at least without my attorney present. I hope I've been of some help to you. Good afternoon; now if you'll excuse me, my pizza is getting cold before its time."
Philip Curtis gently closed the door.
Matt was about to knock on the door again until JJ stopped him.
"He's said all he's going to say on the matter." JJ said. "To tell the truth, he's already been very helpful; we've got a perspective on this that we didn't have before, and it fits. In fact, I think I might have an idea who our UnSub is." She then produced her phone as they headed back to the van.
"Who're you calling?" Matt asked.
"I'm calling Prentiss to share what we just learned. Maybe she can press Dustman to shed even more light on everything." JJ explained. "Why don't you call Garcia to see if she can confirm a match on those tire treads you found?"
As she rang up Emily, Matt did the same for Garcia.
Washington, D.C.
"This is Emily Prentiss." The Unit Chief finally answered her phone.
"Agent Prentiss, this is Assistant Director Lisa Barnes." Barnes greeted, keeping her voice dry and stern. "I was calling to inquire on the progress on your case in Lewiston."
"Yes, Ma'am," Prentiss replied. "We've delivered a profile, which has produced a suspect. The only trouble is that at the moment we have a Public Defender blocking our progress in questioning the suspect; though we do have eyes on both the suspect and the Defender, whom we believe may well be the UnSub's next target."
"You make it all sound so encouraging, Agent Prentiss." Barnes countered. "But if I understand correctly, there has been a third victim since you and your team arrived."
"That's true, Ma'am." Agent Prentiss admitted; did Lisa detect a hint of trepidation in her voice? "Our theory is that our presence in the area may have prompted the UnSub to accelerate his agenda."
"I see. What about this suspect? You say you have eyes on him. Why is he not in custody?" Barnes challenged.
"We don't have sufficient evidence to hold him, Ma'am." Agent Prentiss answered.
"Let me see if I am hearing this correctly, Agent Prentiss." The Assistant Director said. "You have a suspect based on your profile, with no evidence to even arrest him, even after he has committed three murders, one of them right under your collective noses. It sounds to me as if you have made no progress at all."
"I can understand how it might seem that way, Ma'am..." Prentiss paused in mid-sentence. "Hold on a moment Ma'am, I have Agent Jareau on the other line. She and Agent Simmons are the ones with eyes on the suspect."
"That's excellent news. Patch her through to this line." Barnes ordered.
"Hello, Agent Jareau. I have you on the line with Assistant Director Barnes." Prentiss announced.
"Hello, Miss Barnes." Agent Jareau greeted. "It's good to hear from you."
It was a passably good lie; made all the more convincing since it was over the phone. Lisa Barnes had a great deal of respect for Agent Jareau. It was in the Assistant Director's mind that Jareau, and not Prentiss should be in charge of the BAU. In fact, Barnes once had Agent Prentiss suspended and then reassigned so she could put Agent Jareau exactly in that position. However, the team has a kind of solidarity that she had never seen before; all of her efforts to adjust the team were for nothing.
"Agent Prentiss and I were just discussing the case you're on, Agent Jareau. I understand that you might have some new information to share." Barnes prompted.
"Yes, Ma'am" Agent Jareau confirmed. "Agent Simmons and I were spotted by Mr. Curtis, so we took a chance to ask him a couple of questions concerning an incident that took place here twenty years ago that we believe is key to solving this case now."
"I gather this Philip Curtis is the suspect that Agent Prentiss was speaking of earlier?"
"That's correct Ma'am." Agent Prentiss said.
Then Agent Jareau relayed what their suspect had told them, and provided the necessary background that related to the case. It sounded rather far-reaching to Barnes, but then this team had already proven that knew what they were doing, even if their methods were often unorthodox. Not that any of that really mattered to her, anyway. She had managed to profile them as a collective, herself.
Collectively, they viewed her as an interfering busybody that was all but obsessed with creating rifts within their unit to suit some agenda of her own. While that may have been true at one point, and perhaps would be again, that was not what any of this was about – or not directly. The purpose of this call was served; she only wanted to ensure that their notion of her was maintained. With that purpose completed, Lisa Barnes felt certain they would have no reason to look into her activities any farther; all would seem business as usual, so Agent Prentiss would likely not notice that her team was being given what amounted to busy-work in order to allow Agents Reid, Garcia, and now Lynch to operate on her behalf unimpeded. The hard part now would be to make certain that none of the three caught wise to their role in what she and the Director had taken to calling 'Project Failsafe'.
Satisfied that her work was done, Barnes commended Agent Jareau, asked her to extend that commendation to Agent Simmons, and then allowed the team to carry on.
Lewiston, New York
"Do you know what I've been thinking about?" Agent David Rossi asked conversationally as he and Dr. Tara Lewis watched the Chapman house. "I've been wondering what it is that Barnes is up to? Why did she send us to this case specifically? Does she have some personal connection?
"I don't think so." Lewis replied. "I think it's a PR stunt; 'the FBI saves Whitebread America.' She probably thinks it'll make for some good damage control for the Bureau, especially in the eyes on the Hill."
That came off sounding a little bit cold to Rossi. He glanced over at Lewis, and had to respect her poker face; if she, a black woman, was genuinely bitter, she hid it well. All the same, her point was made and it was certainly valid. If any place in the country could be called Whitebread, Lewiston was definitely on the list of places; and that was just based on the demographic of the population, the majority of which were Caucasian and over forty. Given who was in charge on the Hill, a town like this one was very much a status-quo model; the exact kind of place that they would want to show the rest of the country and the world as being America at its finest. Rossi thought about asking about the possible race issue that Lewis might be touching on, and decided against it; at least for now.
"This is a nice, quiet neighborhood, though." Lewis said; apparently keen to change the subject. The Chapman house was on a quiet Avenue with a main drag street a good four blocks to their west – behind them as they were parked – and a fairly busy side street at the end of their block to their east.
"That's for sure." Rossi agreed.
A red Ford Taurus- a newer, though not newest model- rounded the corner off the street ahead of them. The clock on the dash of their van said it was 3:36 pm. Rossi glanced habitually at his watch, which agreed with the dashboard clock. The Taurus had a woman driving it with a young girl buckled up in the backseat as a passenger. She turned the car into the Chapman house driveway; right beside Eric Chapman's Town Car, cut the ignition and got out. The girl in the back let herself out as well, saying something to the effect of being big enough to do it by herself now. The woman replied saying something that was a clear indication of agreement. This was obviously Elsie and Elizabeth Chapman; Eric's wife and daughter.
"Well, now the wife and daughter are home." Lewis commented. "By now Chapman has to know he's a likely target. Do you think he'll send them away or try to draw the UnSub away from his family by leaving the house?"
Rossi gave it a second or two of thought. "I don't think either will be necessary." Rossi said. "The UnSub has been extremely specific in his selection so far. This is personal. If the loved ones of the victims are targets in any way, it's that they will have to suffer the loss of a loved one."
There was a scream from inside the Chapman house.
In an instant, both Rossi and Lewis sprang into action; they leaped out of their van and ran to the house. Lewis stopped short in the front yard to intercept the little girl – Elizabeth was her name, according to what Garcia had pulled up on the Chapman's – and Rossi pressed on into the house. He found Elsie Chapman standing the Dining Room, frozen and gazing up in shock and horror to where her husband was hanging by his neck on a rope over an overhang on the upper floor that led, presumably, to the bedrooms and maybe some kind of office. Chapman's button-down shirt was opened, and the word 'TOUCH' was written on his chest. Dave had no doubt that forensics would reveal the writing was done in lipstick; in the same shade as the previous three crime scenes.
As JJ spoke to Prentiss and from what Simmons could tell Barnes, Matt contacted Garcia.
"Fountain of all knowledge and wisdom; this is your oracle Penelope Garcia speaking. How may I enlighten you?"
"Garcia, this is Simmons." Matt replied. "I was wondering if any hits on those tire treads have come up yet."
Garcia made a kind of hissing noise that Simmons wasn't sure he much cared for. "I have isolated them to a highly common tread on a tire used for a specific brand of truck. The problem is that they are so generic that a list of trucks with matching treads is literally pages long. Well, maybe down to one page of three columns if I limit my search to trucks registered in Lewiston and the surrounding area."
"Does limiting to Lewiston specifically help?" Simmons asked.
"Not really," Garcia answered.
"What if you were to narrow it down to trucks of that make, model and year that paid for parking service at Cunningham's garage in the last, say, three months?" Simmons suggested that because it was theorized the UnSub may have parked his vehicle in the Cunningham lot in order to get to Cunningham.
"You see, that is why you're a Profiler and I'm just an analyst." Garcia commented. "Why didn't I think of that?" Simmons could hear her clicking at her keyboard. "That list is still pretty long; though a lot of the licences are from Ontario and a number of out-of-state visitors. You think this guy is a local, right?"
"That's right."
"Okay, then; let's just see what happens if I limit to the search to New York licences... oh..." Garcia trailed off.
"What do you have, Garcia?" Matt asked.
"A truck that would match the tread you're looking for in the possession of a Theresa Larson." Garcia said. "She's the wife of a Christopher Larson; 'Topher is short for Christopher, isn't it? 'Topher Larson was Tina Larson's twin brother. He wrote that angry eulogy. Does that fit?"
"Yes, it does." Simmons concurred. "Thanks, Garcia." He hung up. JJ was finishing her call.
"We have a possible match on the tire treads." Matt announced, "Christopher Larson; or more accurately his wife."
JJ nodded. "Why would she think anything was wrong if her husband borrowed her truck?" she asked; though it was more of a statement than a question. Simmons got the idea that JJ wasn't surprised at all to hear this. "It isn't much, but we could still go back to ask 'Topher a few more questions."
Just as Prentiss and Alvez were about to ask Dustman about the report he had filed in regards to the suspect in the Larson rape case, and see if he knew more about the conversation Tina Larson had with the authorities immediately following that crime when Prentiss's phone buzzed yet again.
It was Rossi.
"Yes, Dave; this is Prentiss." She greeted.
"Lewis and I are inside the Chapman house." Rossi replied. "You might want to get down here; and get JJ and Simmons here, too. It looks like our UnSub was laying in wait for Eric to get home."
That was when Dustman burst in on them. "We got another one!" He said breathlessly. "Dispatch just said Elsie Chapman called saying Eric's been hanged!"
"We're on our way." Prentiss said.
Emily Prentiss and Luke Alvez arrived at the Chapman house behind Sheriff Dustman's cruiser, and JJ and Simmons pulled up as the three of them were rushing up to the front door, which was already taped off; both Elsie and Elizabeth in chairs on the front stoop. The Sheriff halted, and opted to talk to the deceased man's family before entering. As the team entered, Tara went out and joined Dustman.
"Nothing's been touched." Rossi said as the team took a look at the scene before them. "Lewis and I made sure of that."
Emily nodded, almost absently.
"You said the UnSub must have been laying in wait." Alvez said. "Since you and Lewis were out front, he must have made his escape through the back. Was the back door open?"
Rossi shook his head indicating no. "It's locked. If you look out the window, you can see it's pretty easy to get on and off the property through the back yard. If you had your vehicle parked back there, you could get off the block and then drive away from either side without anyone being any the wiser. Especially if your vehicle is one that locals are used to seeing around town."
"He's hiding in plain sight." JJ said.
"Elizabeth – that's the daughter – says there's an emergency key hidden behind a rock in the planters lining the back yard garden." Rossi added. "So we know how he got in and out."
"That might also mean we have a fingerprint; most likely a thumb and a forefinger." Simmons suggested. "He had to be feeling rushed; maybe he got careless."
"I'm no expert, but judging from the angle of Eric's head in that noose, I'd say that's likely." Emily agreed, pointing up at the body, still suspended above them. "That looks like a broken neck to me; what do you guys think?"
Dustman entered the room, winced at the sight of the Public Defender, and after regaining his composure announced that CSI were just pulling in now. Luke was headed towards the back door to see if he could find that hide-a-key. On hearing Dustman's announcement he stopped. It was possible, Emily supposed, that the UnSub put it back where he found it. It was also wise to let CSI find it; this way they couldn't be accused of evidence tampering or screwing up the chain.
"Hey," Simmons said. "What's that in his back pocket? Is that some kind of paper?"
They looked up, and sure enough there was something that certainly looked like a paper in the back pocket of Eric Chapman's pants. It might have been a suicide note; maybe the Public Defender was ridden with guilt over what he may or may not have done twenty years ago. It was possible he was the UnSub, and finished his campaign with a suicide, but Emily doubted it. Still, it could be substantive to what was going on; maybe the UnSub planted it.
CSI entered the room and started with their process; one of them griped about path of contamination, but otherwise the process was handled efficiently enough. Once everything was tagged and catalogued, Emily asked if she could see the paper in the victim's back pants pocket. The griping technician gave her a look as if she just uttered a filthy joke, then handed her the paper sullenly. She took one glance at it and realized what it was, and had no doubt that the UnSub planted it. She also had a pretty good idea who the real UnSub was.
"Guys, I think you should all get a look at this." She said. "It's a suicide note, alright; but Chapman didn't write it."