Reid and Rossi were in the kitchen of the cabin leaning over a map which was spread out on the table. Reid had his nerd glasses on and was busily calculating probabilities and drawing circles while Rossi was reading through the case details again, stroking his beard thoughtfully. The atmosphere was a little awkward, as Reid and Rossi hadn't been alone together since Rossi had watched the Faraday Case tapes with Hotch, and they hadn't spoken about it at all.
Rossi felt that he should say something, like 'are you okay?' But he obviously wasn't, and if there was one thing Rossi couldn't stand, it was pointless questions.
The kid looked pretty damned awful though. His usually neat hair looked like it hadn't been brushed or washed yet that day, his skin was sallow and washed out and his eyes had dark circles underneath. He was wearing a baggy knitted sweater which hid his shape, but Rossi hadn't seen him eat anything in days, and suspected he was even skinnier than usual underneath.
"Reid…" he began.
"I'm okay." Reid said reflexively without even looking up. Rossi chuckled, obviously Reid had been asked that question so many times he could now sense it coming long before it was said.
"No, you're not, but that wasn't what I was going to say."
"Oh. Sorry." Reid said.
There was a long pause.
"So what were you going to say?" Reid prompted, impatient to return to his task.
Rossi smiled. "I just wanted to tell you…how strong I think you are. And that I'm proud to work with you."
Reid looked surprised and embarrassed, but not displeased.
"Thank you." He said with an awkward smile.
Rossi nodded. "You're welcome."
Just at that moment Morgan and Hotch got back.
"We're in here." Rossi called. They came into the kitchen and told them what they'd discovered about Viktor Kurkov. "Interesting." Rossi remarked when they'd finished. "Could he be our unsub?"
"Well, we profiled the unsub to be a white male with dark hair between the ages of 20 – 40, so in that respect he's a match. But we also said the unsub is an impotent sexual sadist who feels he has been wronged by a woman in his life. Kurkov is married." Hotch said.
"They were arguing. Perhaps the marriage isn't going so well." Morgan said. He turned to Reid, "Oh by the way, any idea what 'kokhana' means?"
"Um…I think it's Ukrainian. It's a term of endearment, like 'darling' or 'love.'"
Morgan shook his head. "I don't think this is our guy. If he'd said that in English I might have thought it was for our benefit. But if he knew we wouldn't understand then he obviously meant it. And I think a guilty man would have tried to hide the argument better, to show us what a nice guy he is."
"I'll ask Garcia to do a background check on him anyway. He was definitely hiding something." Hotch said, dialling her number. "Garcia, I need you to get me some information on a guy named Viktor Kurkov."
"What kind of information?"
"I'm not sure. Employment, criminal, medical, anything which stands out."
There was a short pause.
"Okay…so he arrived in America ten years ago with his brother and his wife, though she wasn't his wife back then. They started a business together, made heck of a lot of money and then sold it and bought a hotel…ohh! Their hotel is less than an hour away from the White Star Resort, is that the kind of thing you're looking for?"
"Yes, what was it called?"
"The Creekside Hotel."
Reid bent over the map again, tracing a road line with his finger. "Hey I'm pretty sure I saw that around here somewhere…here it is, The Creekside Hotel. Right in the middle of my calculated probability zone." He pointed to a shaded area on the grid. "The grounds practically back onto the lake. So how come they don't own it anymore?"
"They still do, but it's not in use anymore. They lost business to the larger White Star Resort when it opened and couldn't afford to keep it open. And by the look of things it's about to be sold to some stinking rich couple who want to turn it into a stately home and make it their summer residence."
"No wonder Kurkov has a chip on his shoulder when it comes to rich people." Morgan said.
"We'd better go check it out." Hotch said. "Thanks Garcia."
...
Ten minutes later they were in the cars, armed and wearing bulletproof vests. They were accompanied by the two officers, Dane and Jarvis. They made it to The Creekside Hotel building in just over half an hour, since there was just one large, mostly empty road which stretched around the lake.
They piled out of the car and Morgan kicked down the front door and they spread out into the rooms, followed by several shouts of 'Clear!'
Morgan ran around to the back of the building, sticking close to the walls, when suddenly he came across a large, heavy oak door. He was about to kick it down when he realised it was already slightly ajar. He pushed it open quietly and stepped inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he saw them; the bodies of Max and Judy Brook laid out side by side on the floor. The woman had been stabbed repeatedly, so had the husband. He was blindfolded and her eyes were open, her mouth was too and she was reaching out to him as if she had died calling out his name.
A movement caught his eye and he saw a figure in a black hooded sweatshirt, who was scrubbing blood off the wall of the room, which he now recognised as an opulently dilapidated old ballroom.
"DOWN ON YOUR KNEES! PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!" Morgan yelled.
The man dropped his bucket and scrubbing brush and put his hands on his head before falling to his knees. Morgan unhooked his cuffs from his belt and slapped them around the guy's wrists before yanking him round to face him.
"Viktor Kurkov." Morgan said. "You are under arrest." Kurkov glared at him.
Morgan raised his hand to his radio and called the others.
They took Kurkov to the small police station in the local town. They left him to sit for a while in the cold interrogation room, and watched him getting more and more tense, slumping in the plastic chair like a teenager in detention and scowling at the one way mirror they were observing him through.
Eventually Hotch went in and started the recorder, explained to Kurkov his rights and asked if he wanted to request legal assistance. Kurkov glowered and grunted 'no.'
"The Creekside Hotel belongs to you, doesn't it?" Hotch began.
"Yes."
"How many guests did you take this year?"
"Do not play games with me agent Hotchner." Kurkov snapped defensively. "If you are going to waste my time with questions, then at least ask questions which you do not already know the answers."
"How does it feel to have to work for the company which stole your business? I've seen how much you used to earn. How did it feel to be downgraded and shunted into the background?"
A muscle twitched in the man's jaw and he turned his face to the side.
"I wasn't thrilled." He said.
"Did you want revenge? Is that what this is about? Getting your own back on the company which bankrupted you by tarnishing their reputation, making people scared to go there?"
Kurkov laughed. "That's what you think this is about?"
"So what is it about then?"
"How should I know?" Kurkov shrugged.
"The victims' blood was found all over your hands and clothes. You stabbed them both to death."
"They were dead when I got there."
"So how did you get their blood on your clothes?"
"I moved them. Turned their bodies over."
"Why would you do that? And why were you cleaning their blood off the wall?" Hotch asked coldly.
Guilt flickered across Kurkov's eyes but he remained defiantly sullen.
"As I'm sure you know I am in the process of selling that property. The buyers would pay me significantly less money if they knew six people had been slaughtered here, don't you think?"
"So you were going to do what with the bodies exactly?"
"The same as the killer. Dump them in the lake. I knew they would be found sooner or later. What did it matter to anyone where that happened to be?"
"You said six. Does that mean you moved the bodies of Sarah and Greg Foster as well?"
"No. I assumed the killer had got to them first. I didn't kill them. Now am I going to be charged for anything or can I leave?"
"I have one more question. What was written on the wall?" Hotch asked.
That caught him off guard.
"What?" he said, stalling for time.
"The killer used their blood to write on the wall. Must have been important. What did it say?"
Kurkov opened his mouth, but then shut it and glared. "I've changed my mind. I want a lawyer."
Hotch got up and left the room without a word.
"Well, there's definitely something he's trying to hide from us." Hotch said.
"He deflected almost every question with another question." Rossi remarked. "He's certainly defensive."
"But he's not our unsub." Morgan said.
"No." Said Hotch.
"Definitely not, I mean, why would he come back to clean up his own crime scene? It doesn't make sense. And the way he positioned the bodies side by side like that shows a level of compassion and respect for the dead which wouldn't even occur to a sadistic psychopath like this unsub." Rossi said.
"The M.O. was different this time." Morgan said. "Was that just because the police are dragging the lake and there are too many people?"
"That would have been frustrating for him, not being able to complete the fantasy. That could be why he lost control and went into a stabbing frenzy, and could have prompted the message on the wall. Or he could just be devolving, and couldn't organise his thoughts long enough to plan his route to the lake." Rossi replied.
Hotch picked up one of the case photos showing the corpses of the Kellers. "All of this symbolism…the way the bodies were arranged, it was like he wanted to position them so that they would be together for eternity. Maybe he just doesn't want them disturbed? So he's got to find a new place to hide them where they won't be found."
"Do CSI know what the message he left was about?" Morgan asked.
"They haven't called. Jarvis warned me their department isn't exactly well staffed or well-equipped so we could be waiting for a while." Rossi replied.
"A while is exactly what we don't have." Hotch rubbed his temples wearily. "The planes are still down, so we're all trapped until further notice, the guests are starting to get nervous with every second he's out there, and the police are going to happily make us the scapegoats if anything goes wrong. And I really didn't want to have to use Prentiss and Young as anything other than a last resort anyway."
"Well we can hold him for tonight at least, maybe a night in the cells will make him think again about whether his secret is worth going to jail for." Morgan said.
"Do you think the murders are about him? Someone could be trying to frame him." Rossi said.
"Who?" Morgan said. "Garcia didn't find anything else wrong with this guy, no dodgy business deals, no criminal record. His personality leaves a lot to be desired but there's no evidence to suggest anyone bears a grudge against him."
"Unless things are tenser with his wife than we thought." Rossi said.
"Reid? You okay man?" Morgan asked Reid quietly, realising he hadn't spoken since they caught Kurkov.
He was sitting on an office chair with one leg folded underneath him and his elbow on the desk, staring at some spot on the floor a couple of feet in front of him. He blinked himself out of his daze and replied, "Um…I was just thinking…" he frowned. "This unsub seems to feel extremely confident when he wears a mask. That's why he felt comfortable at the masked ball. He could have some kind of disfigurement…that would explain why he doesn't use a ruse. He doesn't feel able to charm them in situations…where they can see his face."
He rested his forehead on the heel of his hand and stifled a yawn with the other hand, as if following that train of thought had worn him out.
"Yeah…that would make sense. Your average unconfident hit-em-over-the-head-and-be-done-with-it unsub doesn't generally risk getting caught just to attend a dance. They'd practically kill to avoid social situations like that. Why do you think he did that anyway? Was he mocking us?" Morgan asked.
"If he does have a disfigurement, that could have lead to or at least intensified his hatred for women. If the women he found attractive shunned him because of his appearance he may find that wearing a mask empowers him." Hotch said.
"That whole ritual, the eating together, attending the dance, that could all be some kind of twisted way for him to imagine that they're in a relationship." asked Rossi.
"He's pretending to be dating them?" Morgan asked with a disgusted expression.
They all looked up as Officer Dane walked in with a fat bald man with a briefcase and glasses who introduced himself as Viktor Kurkov's lawyer.
Rossi and Morgan took a turn at questioning Kurkov again, but hours ticked by and Kurkov refused to budge.
"This is getting us nowhere." Hotch sighed as Morgan and Rossi came back out. "We need to get back, the Wilderness Gathering starts soon. Let's go. Kurkov will still be here tomorrow."