Chapter 13

The remaining members of the team ordered sandwiches and soft drinks from the deli next door to the police station. This way, they could keep working while they ate. Garcia had called once reporting the only thing on the anonymous phone call was it had been made using a prepaid cell phone. Hotch was disappointed but not surprised. But twenty minutes later, an excited Garcia's face appeared on the laptop screen.

"Let me begin by saying, sir, that I left no stone unturned," she told Hotch. "I searched high and low until I found the information you asked for about Clarissa Meadows and her family."

Hotch grinned. "Go ahead, Garcia."

"Yes, sir. I went back five years like you asked me to do, and I hit the jackpot. Four years ago, Cecil and Dorothy Meadows lived in Reno, Nevada. They reported to the police that their then fifteen-year-old daughter, Clarissa, was being stalked. Her stalker turned out to be a thirty-five-year-old widower named Ronald Brandt. Her parents secured a Civil Harassment Restraining Order against him."(1)

"Why did he stalk her?" asked Hotch.

"Brandt's wife had died a month earlier," Garcia explained. "He apologized to the Meadows family when the locals paid him a visit. He explained that when he saw Clarissa, the resemblance to his late wife threw him, and caused him to repeatedly try to contact her. The police didn't arrest him because he seemed truly sorry for causing problems. But the harassment continued, but the police could not prove Brandt was responsible, so again he wasn't charged. To get away from everything, the Meadows family moved from Reno, Nevada to Santa Barbara, California."

"How did his wife die, Garcia?" asked JJ.

"She died in a car crash under mysterious circumstances."

"What circumstances?" asked Reid, eyes narrowed.

"According to the police report, it turned out her brake hose had been tampered with causing her brakes to fail. She had moved in with her sister after moving out of the home she shared with Brandt. She had been returning to her sister's after leaving work when her brakes failed. Her car collided head-on with a guardrail and she was killed instantly. And sir, she had filed for divorce a week before she died."

Rossi and Hotch exchanged knowing looks. Ronald Brandt began to look good for the murders.

"Oh my God," Garcia exclaimed.

"What is it?" asked Hotch.

"Sir, Clarissa Meadows and Sandra Brandt can be twins. I'm sending you their photos like super-pronto." A few seconds later, side-by-side photos of Clarissa Meadows and Sandra Brandt appeared. Except for the different hair, skin, and eye color, the women's features were the same. The team studied the photos carefully.

"They can be twins," Rossi noted studying the photos.

Hotch agreed. "Garcia, what about Ronald Brandt?"

"Uh, he was a suspect in the death of his wife, but the police never found a way to link him with her death. They kept him under surveillance for weeks; but in the end, he was never charged. But the police discovered she had a boyfriend whom they interviewed. He told police they had been having an affair for six months, and she had filed for divorce from her husband so they could be together. He had an airtight alibi at the time of her death. "

"Do you have a picture of the husband?"

"Newsflash. The best picture I found was one taken during the police surveillance after his wife's death. Coming at you right now, sir."

A photo of the man known as Ronald Brandt appeared on the screen. It was not quite a close-up, and not taken from a distance. The man was either looking at something, or unaware he was under surveillance, and wearing sunglasses.

"This could be our Unsub," Rossi said looking at his friend.

Hotch nodded. "I agree. Garcia, do you have an address for Ronald Brandt?"

"No, sir. After the Meadows family moved out of Reno, he fell off the grid as they say. I looked everywhere. I used every trick I can think of, and searched using every program I have. The last place I found any record of him was the hospital in Reno where he worked. But he quit shortly after the Meadows family left town. I checked private and public moving companies, storage facilities, real estate companies, banks, hospitals, clinics, and the DMV. I even checked funeral homes just in case...well, you know. I also checked with the Canary Yellow cab company. I found zilch. Zero. Nada. Even the Reno police have no idea where he went. And sir, he was a surgeon."

Hotch let out a deep breath. "Keep looking, Garcia. Nobody just falls off the face of the earth. There has to be a paper trail somewhere."

"Yes, sir. I'll keep looking and double-check where I've looked already and get back to you whether I find anything or not. Garcia out." The FBI logo appeared on the screen.

Hotch leaned toward the table with hands flat. "If Brandt is our Unsub, seeing the photos of his late wife and Clarissa Meadows explains why he took care with her body. When he saw her at fifteen, he noticed the resemblance to his late wife, so he stalked her. When she turned nineteen, he abducted her. His wife's affair was probably his main stressor, and the divorce a secondary stressor."

"His spouse having an affair for months must have made him very hurt and angry," said JJ.

"He must've spent considerable time searching for Clarissa after she left Reno, knowing what he planned on doing to her," said Hotch. "But once he found her, he not only lacked the nerve to confront her directly, but the capability to carry out his torture."

"But why kill Anthony Barstow, Shannon Carstairs, and Thomas Gannon if Clarissa Meadows was the intended target?" asked JJ.

"The others were a practice run until he built up the courage to confront Clarissa Meadows," Rossi explained. "And he kept killing until he had perfected his method."

"But we don't know if he's even in Santa Barbara," Reid explained. "Yes, he does meet the profile and he is or was a surgeon. But if he isn't in Santa Barbara, there goes our best suspect."

It was then the door opened, and a very tired-looking Morgan and Prentiss walked into the room. Both collapsed in chairs and let out deep breaths.

"You two look terrible," Rossi smirked.

"We feel terrible," Morgan acknowledged.

"But we got a copy of the employee list from Canary Yellow cab company," Prentiss explained handing her boss two pages of names and addresses.

Hotch examined both pages. "I'll have Garcia run these names as well as what she's already doing." He removed his cell phone and dialed Garcia's number.

"Something happen?" asked Morgan looking at Rossi while his boss talked with the tech analyst privately.

Rossi nodded and explained what they had just found out. Prentiss and Morgan exchanged looks before Morgan looked back at the older man.

"This Ronald Brandt must be really good if baby girl can't find 'im," he said. "But he has to be somewhere."

"That's why Hotch has Garcia going over everything again," said Rossi.

"You and Hotch figure this Ronald Brandt is good for the four murders?" asked Prentiss with a shake of her head.

"He definitely fits the profile," Rossi pointed out.

Hotch put away his cell phone and faced the others. "Garcia's going to run a check on all fourteen names on this list and see if Ronald Brandt's photo matches any of the drivers." He looked at Morgan and Prentiss. "Have you two had lunch?"

"We didn't have time," Morgan explained. "It took a while to get the list of drivers from the cab company, and then we hurried right back here." And soon as he finished talking, his stomach rumbled. He looked at his boss, embarrassed.

Hotch looked at both agents. "Take an hour and head to the deli next door. Get yourselves something. It's going to take time for Garcia to run the checks on fourteen drivers and go over her research on Ronald Brandt."

"Sounds good to me," Prentiss groaned as she got to her feet. Morgan followed suit. Both of them headed out of the door to grab a late lunch.

Hotch watched them leave before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache was forming. The feeling that things were not going to end well became stronger. He believed Ronald Brandt was their Unsub. And all that mattered now was finding the man before he got Morgan, or whoever his actual target on the team was. Little did Hotch realize that Ronald Brandt was one of the many aliases of Jason Armitage.

Armitage smirked as he crouched beside the body of Simon Fennier who lay face-up beside the refrigerator on his kitchen floor. Blood, mixing with the spilled beer, stained the tile beneath the body. With a grin, Armitage wiped the blade on the man's trousers before he tucked the knife into his belt and stood up slowly.

It had been so easy he recalled. He had driven the cab to Fennier's house and parked it in the driveway. Fennier came outside to greet him as was his habit, while he got out of the vehicle. After exchanging pleasantries, Armitage asked if Fennier had anything cold to drink as he was thirsty. The man said he had twelve bottles of cold beer in his refrigerator and for him to come inside and join him. Armitage, not really thirsty, gladly accepted the offer of a beer to put the man at ease. He watched Fennier walk into the kitchen, and followed behind, reaching into his pocket at the same time. He pulled his hand out slowly as Fennier started closing the refrigerator door. The minute the door closed, the man's eyes bulged as the blade was driven forcefully into his lower abdomen over and over, blood spraying everywhere from the force of the thrusts.

The two beer bottles fell from his hand crashing to the floor and shattering, cold beer spilling everywhere. The man weakly grabbed at Armitage's shoulders as his knees buckled, and he fell on his back on the floor. Armitage straddled him and continued stabbing until the man stopped struggling. Breathing hard, he pressed two fingers against the man's throat feeling for a pulse; there was none. It was unfortunate he hadn't been able to make it appear as a suicide, but those were the breaks.

Armitage finally awoke as if from a dream. His clothes were stained with blood. As he wiped his stained hands on his pants, Armitage knew he had to change before he left. It would not do to be seen with bloody clothes. And since he and Fennier were the same size, there should be no problem finding clothes that would fit him.

He hurried into the living room, and up the stairs leading to the bedroom. There, Armitage stripped off his bloody clothes until he had on nothing but his boxers. He had come prepared, though, crouched down, and removed a pair of Latex gloves from his back pants pocket. After he straightened up, he rummaged through Fennier's clothes closet until he found a torn pair of jeans and a red tee shirt. He dressed quickly. He also grabbed a tote bag from the back of the closet in which he stuffed his bloody clothes. He'd dispose of them later. After he returned downstairs, he took a last glance at the bloody corpse near the refrigerator. Still wearing the Latex gloves, he picked up the receiver of the phone on the table, and pulled out a handkerchief. He pushed the buttons on the phone, then covered the mouthpiece with the handkerchief.

"Nine-one-one. Please state your emergency."

"I want to report a murder."

Morgan and Prentiss returned to the conference room at the same time as Detective Parsons. All the agents looked up when the door opened. The Unit Chief saw the concerned look on the detective's face.

"What's happened?" Hotch asked.

"I'm not sure," Parsons explained. "A 911 call was received. An anonymous caller reported a murder at 2414 Bingham Road. Says the victim's name is Simon Fennier. I'm heading out there now."

Hotch got to his feet. "Dave. Reid. You're with me." The three agents followed Parsons out of the door.

The agents followed Parsons in their SUV with Hotch behind the wheel, and Rossi beside him. Reid sat in the back seat looking out the window. He had noticed nothing but endless rows of small houses and his brain was working. With a glance at his friend, Hotch could see Rossi was thinking the same thing. Was this another victim of their killer? Had he chosen somebody else in place of Morgan? And if so, why?

Rossi pulled out his cell phone.

"Office of the technological genie. As me a question and I will grant your wish."

Rossi smirked. "Garcia, what do you have on a Simon Fennier?"

"Un momento, por favor." The sound of her fingers racing over her keyboard could be heard. "Okay, Simon Fennier has a rap sheet longer than Dr. Reid's hair…"

Reid started. "What? My hair isn't that long," he protested until he saw Hotch stare at him in the rearview mirror and closed his mouth.

"Continue, Garcia," Rossi said.

"As I was saying, our Mr. Fennier has a long rap sheet. Everything from public drunkenness, petty thief, robbery, spousal abuse, assault with a deadly weapon, and other things too many to mention. He and his wife lived at 2414 Bingham Road. They had no children thank God. She ran off with another man three years ago but he still lives there. Oh, and sir, he drives a cab with the Canary Yellow cab company although I don't know how he got that job. He was one of the names on the list Hotch gave me to run a check on earlier."

"Has there been any complaints filed against him by customers with the cab company?" asked Reid.

"Let's see, my baby G-man. Yes. There have been one, two, three…seven complaints filed against Mr. Fennier ranging from rudeness, being uncooperative, and just an all-around nasty character. But no action was never taken against him by his employer."

"Thanks, Garcia." Rossi disconnected the call and looked at his boss. "Charming fellow," he said. The older man's eyebrows knitted together. "You don't think Ronald Brandt and Simon Fennier could be the same person, and he killed himself believing it was only a matter of time, do you?"

"Anything's possible," said Hotch.

"But something else bothers me," Rossi said. "If this Fennier turns out not to be the Unsub, but another victim, why would his body be left in a house as opposed to out in the open?"

"If you're right, then our killer is changing his MO again." Hotch looked at Rossi. "It wouldn't be the first time since we've been here."

Reid's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Guys, I think Simon Fennier was nothing more than a means to an end."

"What do you mean?" asked Hotch.

"Think about it." Reid was becoming excited. "The Unsub wanted us to believe his next target would be Morgan. So why go after a total stranger? And this Simon Fennier just happens to drive a cab? How coincidental is that? And Fennier's home is within the Unsub's comfort zone. Guys, Simon Fennier is not the Unsub."

Hotch pursed his lips and his eyes narrowed as he mulled over what Reid had said. "But Brandt wants us to believe he is. The Unsub knows Fennier, and its possible Fennier may have discovered for what his cab was being used. And if we go on the basis that Brandt is our killer, he probably used Fennier's cab to find and transport his victims to wherever he tortures them. But now Fennier has become a liability to him."

"So he's getting rid of anybody who he considers a threat," Rossi added.

"When a cab driver isn't working, he or she will often lend their cab out to a friend who may need to make a little extra money moonlighting. If Fennier loaned his cab to the Unsub, and then found out the truth, it probably resulted in a confrontation between the two men," Reid explained.

Rossi looked at Hotch. "And now the Unsub figures it's time to dump the cab, and get rid of the man who loaned it to him. But why? We have no proof our killer even drives a cab."

"I realize that, Dave," Hotch said. "But let's look at the facts. Out of all the drivers for Canary Yellow cab company, he chose Fennier. Why? There has to be a reason. And the only reason can be is it was Fennier's cab he was using."

"So all we have to do is find out whom Fennier was lending his cab out to on the days he wasn't working," said Rossi.

Hotch parked the SUV behind Parson's car and turned off the engine. He glanced at Rossi and Reid as both men unbuckled their seat belts. "If it could only be that easy, Dave." That said, the three men climbed out of their vehicle and joined Parsons who was speaking with an officer already on the scene. They followed the detective up the steps and into the living room where a sheet-covered body lay on the floor just inside the kitchen. Blood was already staining the sheet in several places. The four men approached the body.

Trying to avoid the broken glass, Parsons crouched beside the body and lifted a corner of the sheet and grimaced at the bloody sight which met his eyes. Both Hotch and Rossi bent over, hands on thighs, and studied the body, while Reid stuck his hands in his pockets.

"He didn't sever the body in half like he did the others," Rossi commented.

"And there's no torture wounds on the body either," Hotch added. "The anger behind this killing indicates it was personal."

"How can you possibly know that?" asked Parsons, staring at the dark-haired man.

"The wounds. They are no signs of hesitation between strikes. Also, the wounds were made with much force. You can tell from how deep they are. That indicates our killer not only knew this victim, but took great delight in what he was doing when he struck. He's escalating and fast."

"Wait a minute," Parsons said eyes shifting between Rossi and Hotch. "Are you telling me the guy who killed those others is the same guy who did this? How can you be sure of that? This body wasn't cut in half or tortured like the others."

"We're aware of that, Detective," Hotch explained. "This victim was killed for a different reason than the others. The Unsub viewed him as a threat."

"Threat? To what?"

Rossi looked up at Parsons. "A threat to us finding out to whom Mr. Fennier loaned his taxi. That man, Detective, is your killer."

Reid removed a pair of Latex gloves from his pocket, and crouched low to take a close examination of the wounds. His eyes narrowed as he carefully touched the edges.

"See something Reid?" asked Hotch.

"These wounds were made with a smooth blade," Reid explained. "The edges are not ragged or torn. In fact, they resemble the same kind of wounds made on the other victims."

"I don't understand," Parsons let the sheet drop back over the body. His eyes shifted from Rossi to Hotch. "If our guy killed Fennier, wouldn't it have been easier to just kidnap him like the others?"

"Fennier's murder wasn't part of the original plan until the BAU arrived," Hotch explained. "We believe Fennier loaned his cab to the Unsub on the belief he was helping somebody earn a few extra dollars. Only our killer wanted it as a means to getting close to his victims. And as a means of transport to get them to wherever he tortures them."

"We also believe the Unsub somehow figured out we were looking into yellow cabs, and decided it was too much of a risk," Rossi continued. "So he brought the cab back to its owner, then killed him before he could tell us anything."

Parsons let out a deep, frustrated breath and shook his head. "In other words, we got nothing."

"Not exactly," Hotch explained. He told the detective about Ronald Brandt and of their suspicions.

"You think this Brandt is good for this?" Parsons asked, hands on hips.

"We do," said Rossi. "Trouble is, we have no idea where he is. Hopefully Fennier's taxi will tell us."

(1)In California, a Civil Harassment Restraining Order is offered by the court. It's placed in effect when any individual has been harassed, teased, taunted, or annoyed by another person or persons.