Chapter 4
With a shake of his head, Hotch leaned forward with both hands flat on the table in front of him.
"That's two bodies in one day," Morgan stated. "He's changed his MO from the first two killings. But why?"
"Where was the body found?" Hotch asked looking up at the detective.
Parsons removed his notebook from inside his jacket. "The deceased is Thomas Gannon, 18. Full-time junior attending Westmont College. When he didn't show up for classes today, the school tried getting in touch with him and couldn't. They then called his emergency contact which was his father who's a widower. He drove to his son's home and found the body." The detective gave Hotch the address.
Hotch sighed and looked at his teammates. Their eyes were all on him. He straightened. "Where's the father at this moment?"
"One of my detectives is escorting him here as we speak. He's so distraught and there's nobody close by who we could contact. We managed to get in touch with his sister who lives in San Francisco. She's on her way, but won't be here for a few hours yet." He sighed. "Damn shame, too. Thomas was his only child."
Hotch shook his head again. The last bit of news made him think of his own 5-year-old son, Jack. He could only imagine how he'd react. "Have somebody let us know when Gannon's father arrives," he said. "If you could give us a few minutes?"
Parsons nodded. "I'll wait outside for you." He closed the door.
"What else do we know? What about the families of both victims?" Hotch's eyes shifted to the two female agents.
"We spoke to a Jason Armbrister who lived in the house near where the first victim was found," JJ explained. "He didn't know either victim and was visiting his children in San Francisco, and returned late yesterday. His wife divorced him last year, and she got sole custody. When I asked if he could prove his whereabouts at the time of the murder, he produced a return ticket stub verifying his return from San Francisco yesterday."
"As far as the Lintons," Prentiss tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I spoke with the father while JJ spoke with the daughter." She went on to explain what Robert Linton had told her as the others listened. When she finished, JJ picked up with her conversation with the daughter. When she had finished, she shook her head. "Poor girl. Hotch, I don't think what's happened has hit her yet. And her father's already traumatized by everything."
"What about Shannon Carstairs?" asked JJ moving a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Rossi shook his head and exhaled. "He spent more time with her than with Barstow. According to the Medical Examiner, the ligature marks on her neck, wrists and ankles were from being bound with wire."
Everybody looked at their Unit Chief who tapped his pencil on the table while he thought about what he had been told.
"Aaron?" Rossi said studying the man he considered more like a son than his best friend. "Something on your mind?"
"Just wondering why our Unsub killed two people in one day. Something made him change his MO and we need to find out what." He looked at his team. "Dave, you and Morgan go with Detective Parsons to the new crime scene. JJ, talk with the police spokesperson and put together a press conference for later today. Reid, continue with the geographic profile. Prentiss, you and I will speak with Gannon's father."
Nodding their understanding of their assignments, Rossi, Morgan and JJ left the conference room leaving Hotch, Prentiss and Reid alone.
Walking through the woods behind his house, he stuck both hands in the pockets of his faded blue jeans. He chuckled as he thought back to a short while ago when they came to his home and asked questions.
He felt flattered and relieved when two women, a blond and brunette, got out of their SUV and approached his house on foot. Having been watching on the closed circuit television in the secret room, he had been cleaning up when they arrived. Removing his leather apron, he hurried upstairs to greet them, and was glad it had not been his enemy. If it had, he would not have gone upstairs. The man would recognize him right away. And that would spoil everything. But the beautiful women had no idea as to his true identity. A grin appeared as he knew later they would all remember his face and he didn't care. After he got his revenge on the man in question, he planned to disappear so far underground those stupid FBI agents would never find him.
A smirk appeared when he recalled that the two women thought he was Jason Armbrister. The fact that he fooled them so easily proved their stupidity. They never questioned his identity even though it was in the wooded area in the back of his house where Barstow's body had been found. And he had the receipt from Armbrister's return plane trip so they would drop him as a suspect. He chuckled when he realized they bought his story.
When he had been searching for the right place for his use, he had selected the home of divorcee Jason Armbrister, who lived alone. His place had been perfect. He studied and stalked Armbrister learning everything about the man, including about his ex-wife in San Francisco with the couple's children. Knowing of Armbrister's trip to visit his children, he waited until the man returned home, killed him, disposed of the body, and took his place. Knowing the man had just moved to the area from San Francisco, nobody had really gotten to know him yet which made him the perfect candidate.
But to him, the most perfect joke was while upstairs with the two agents, he had Thomas Gannon's body downstairs in the soundproof room. He had been busy draining the body of blood when the agents arrived. A chuckle escaped his lips as he thought about how the female agents had no idea their latest victim was just beneath their feet.
Hotch and Prentiss were busy going over the files in front of them about the first two murders when Hotch's cell vibrated. Reaching inside his jacket, he removed his phone, and checked who was calling. Pressing a button he lay the phone on the table in front of him. "Go ahead, Garcia. You're on speaker."
"Sorry it took me so long to get back to you, boss-man," Garcia said. "But you have no idea how many coroners and surgeons in California have been terminated or written up, sir. And how many med students have been expelled or reprimanded for one thing or another. Now remember, you didn't tell me how far to go back so…."
"Garcia…did you find anything?" Hotch asked in his 'no nonsense' voice, hoping to stop Garcia's babbling.
"Oh, yes, sorry, sir. Uh, I went back five years in my research, and there's at least one hundred surgeons who have been written up and/or terminated. And as far as med students, my liege, I have found thirty-five students who have been expelled for various reasons. So far, our victims have nothing in common with any of them. But I'm still searching."
"One hundred surgeons and thirty-five students, Garcia?" asked Reid with arched eyebrows as he turned away from the board.
"And I haven't finished my search yet, my junior G-man."
"What about our victims?" asked Prentiss. "Find anything on them?"
"But of course, my raven-haired goddess. Shannon Carstairs was to begin a job with the Recreation and Parks Department in Alameda next week. She moved to Santa Barbara from Hillside, New Jersey. Both parents are deceased. She has a twenty-one year-old brother named Justin living in Alameda."
"How'd the parents die?" asked Hotch.
"Gordon Carstairs was killed in a mugging 7 years ago while on his way home from work. The mugger was arrested a few days later trying to pawn Mr. Carstairs possessions. Barbara Carstairs died from breast cancer two years ago at the age of sixty."
"And Anthony Barstow?"
"He has been employed at Lorimar's bookstore in Santa Barbara for the past three years. He was born and raised in Santa Barbara, California, and his parents are both still alive and living in Ventura. And before you ask my handsome leader, Ventura is thirty-one minutes or 27 miles from where you are. I sent theirs and Justin's addresses to your phone."
Hotch smiled as he picked up his phone. "Good work, Garcia. And I hate to add to the hit parade…"
"Sir, you just said something funny," Garcia interrupted. She knew her boss had an extremely dry sense of humor. "And very un-Hotchlike."
"Garcia..."
"Sorry, sir. What do you need?"
"We need you to find everything you can on a Thomas Gannon."
"Is he our much sought-after slime ball, sir?"
"No. He's our third victim." Hotch paused for a few seconds. For a while, he thought the call had been disconnected. "Garcia?"
"I'm here, sir. Believe me when I tell you I will leave no stone unturned in my search for our snake in the grass."
"Good. Get back to us when you finish you search."
"Aye, aye, mon Capitan. Garcia out." The call was disconnected.
Hotch put the phone back in his inner jacket pocket when the door opened, and a young uniformed officer looked at the three agents. "Agent Hotchner? Detective Parsons said to inform you when Thomas Gannon's father arrived. He's in interview room two now, sir."
"Thank you," Hotch replied. The officer nodded and closed the door.
"Hotch?" Reid called out seeing his Unit Chief getting to his feet along with Prentiss. The dark-haired agents turned. "I may have something," he added.
"What is it?" Hotch asked crossing his arms across his chest as both agents joined Reid at the white board. With a faint smile, Reid turned back to the board.
"Okay," Reid placed his marker on the first 'X.' "The first victim, Anthony Barstow, was found here two weeks ago. Then two weeks later, the second victim, Shannon Carstairs, was found here." He moved his marker again. And the third victim, Thomas Gannon, was found here. So in other words…" he circled the three 'Xs.' "…our Unsub lives somewhere in this area. This is his comfort zone." Reid tapped his marker inside the circle he just drew.
"Good work," Hotch praised. "This is the area in which we will concentrate our search for the Unsub." He looked at the young genius. "Reid, while Prentiss and I are talking to Barstow's father, I want you to pay a visit to Lorimar's bookstore and speak with Barstow's boss. See if you can find out if Barstow was meeting anyone, or if anybody was seen lurking around outside the store of late."
Hotch and Prentiss then left the room as Reid grabbed his jacket and followed behind them.
After parking the SUV outside the small red brick house, Rossi and Morgan exited their vehicle. They followed Detective Parsons, who had parked in front of them, up the walkway to the porch where two uniformed officers stood guard outside the front door. The trio hurried up the steps, past the two officers, and passed beneath the yellow crime scene tape stretched across the front door and into the residence. The first thing which greeted their eyes was the covered body in the center of the living room; the white sheet spotted with blood. Other plainclothes detectives were searching the premises. Parsons saw the medical examiner making notations, and knelt beside the body.
"What have we got, Ken?" he asked lifting one corner of the sheet allowing him and the agents a glimpse of the body. Letting out a deep breath, the detective let go of the sheet.
"Same as the others," Barlow replied as he approached the trio. "The victim was viciously beaten. Body cut in half at the waist, and all the blood drained. I'll know more after an autopsy, but I don't expect any surprises. We didn't want to move the body until you and the FBI arrived."
"Frank?" a voice called out causing Parsons to turn. A young uniformed officer walked toward him carrying an evidence bag which contained a crushed white Dahlia. He handing it to the detective. "This was beneath the body, sir."
Parsons handed the bag to Rossi who examined it before handing it to Morgan. After examining it, Morgan handed the bag back to the uniformed officer.
"Y'know, Rossi, I wonder whether our friend is growing these Dahlias on his own property," said Morgan. "Or is he buying these after he's chosen his next victim."
"Good question," Rossi replied. "It's worth looking into anyway."
"Why should we care where he's getting the flowers?" asked Parsons looking at the agents, confused.
"Because he has to have access to them," Rossi answered. "Detective, have one of your men find out if anybody has purchased Dahlias recently. Or if anybody has been growing them. These flowers are native to Mexico and Central America and need certain care here in the US. Our Unsub has to either be growing them on his own, or has somewhere he can get them when he needs them. It could be helpful to know where he's getting them."
"I see what you're saying," Parsons relented. "I'll have my men look into it. Anything else?"
"Not right now. I think we'll look around upstairs." Rossi and Morgan separated themselves from the detective and went up a nearby flight of stairs. They came to an open bedroom door and went inside to see what they could find. Rossi scanned the bookshelf, gazing at the rows of hardcovers and paperbacks beside a desk on which sat textbooks, and a notebook. On the floor beside the desk sat a backpack containing more books. Rossi picked up one of the textbooks from the desk and flipped through it.
Morgan, meanwhile, was on the other side of the room checking out the large collection of cassettes and DVDs. "This guy's got a varied taste in movies and music," he remarked to the older man. He moved on to a small table on which sat a phone, its red light flashing. "Hey, Rossi, this guy's got messages." Morgan pressed the play button as Rossi joined him.
There were three messages from Westmont College inquiring as to Gannon's whereabouts. Two messages from the young man's father asking that he call him. One message from somebody named Becky whom the agents suspected might be a girlfriend. Two hang-ups with no messages left. And the last message was from a doctor confirming an appointment for the following afternoon. With each call, a phone number, name, and time and date of call showed on the caller ID except for the hang-ups. They both showed as unknown names and unknown numbers. The agents paid attention to the two hang-ups. But there was nothing odd about them by themselves unless they could find something else to link to them.
"Nothing here indicates Gannon was anything but a clean-cut American kid dedicated to his studies," Rossi remarked.
"And no idea how he crossed paths with the Unsub," Morgan said. "Unless those hang-ups are connected to him somehow."
"I know. It's almost like he's picking people at random." Reaching inside his jacket when his phone vibrated, Rossi pulled out his cell phone and checked the caller ID. He pressed the phone to his ear. "What's up, Hotch?" He listened while Morgan watched his face; he saw the older man's eyes narrow and his eyebrows knit together. "No, Morgan and I are still at Thomas Gannon's home. We'll check and get back to you. Bye." He disconnected the call and looked at Morgan.
"What did Hotch want?"
"He and Prentiss spoke with Gannon's father. He told them his son had been tense the last few days as well as a bit nervous about something. But when he pressed him about it, he denied anything was wrong. He also said one time while visiting his son, the mail came, and his son's mood changed from being happy to scared and nervous."
"Sounds like something he received in the mail scared him. Hopefully he kept whatever it was and didn't destroy it as it might give us a clue." He walked over to the desk, pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and started going through the desk drawers. Rossi did the same and picked up the backpack. After a few minutes, Morgan pulled out an envelope from one of the desk drawers. It had been inside a hardcover book. The outside had no return or addressee addresses, only Gannon's name, typed in bold. He removed the contents from the ripped open envelope. "Hey Rossi, check this out." He handed him the single sheet of paper.
The older man read the typed messages on the white sheet of paper. "I think we found our link," he said.
The single typed line on the paper read: "I AM WATCHING YOU. SOON, THOMAS, SOON." The date was two days before the two hang-ups on the telephone.