A Voice Cries Out
Chapter 5
"His wife?" Morgan echoed Ben Yazzie's words, then turned to look at his colleague. Reid looked as though he'd been slapped.
Yazzie looked worried. "Did something happen to her as well?"
Looking at Reid, Morgan could tell he would be on his own during this interrogation. The younger man was simply staring at the ground in front of him, clearly trying to absorb the information. The senior profiler turned back to the florist.
"Did you ever meet his wife?"
"No. Only Mr. Reid. He stopped in a few times a year, always took a bouquet home for her. Now you tell me….Lord, what is this world coming to?"
Morgan felt like he needed to get Reid out of there. But there was something else he needed to know first.
"If a customer walks in, is there any kind of record of it beyond a credit card? What if he uses cash?"
Now Ben Yazzie exchanged an 'I told you so' glance with his daughter.
"Yes. I keep a file on what repeat customers order. They seem to like it when I can replicate a particular arrangement exactly. So, even if it's a cash-and-carry transaction, I've got a record."
That was better than Morgan had hoped for.
"Can you put together a list of the dates he came in? Add in any phone orders. And any deliveries. And…I guess…let us know what the arrangement was. Someone will be by for it tomorrow. And we may have more questions for you."
"I'll be glad to help, Agent Morgan. I'm so sorry for whatever has happened to Mr. Reid…and his wife."
Morgan nodded a farewell at both Yazzies, then used a hand to Reid's shoulder to turn the younger agent around and toward the door. When they'd reached the SUV, Morgan turned to his friend.
"You all right? Reid?"
Reid squinted into the distance. "I always wondered if he'd replaced us. If he'd left us and made himself a new family. I just…"
"But Garcia never found any record of that when we had that case…"
"She searched for computer records, Morgan. She found his credit history, and his bank accounts. She even hacked into his own computer. But she only went back ten years. They'd have been long since divorced by then. And he'd have had plenty of time to remarry."
Morgan felt helpless in the face of the raw pain oozing from Reid. Silently, he put the SUV in gear, and headed on to their next destination, fully intending to task Garcia with looking more thoroughly into William Reid's past.
Miles away, Hotch and Emily were also in transit.
"So, do we even know if these two IRS guys knew each other?" Emily threw it out to keep herself from saying 'Can you believe that skank hung around children his entire life but left poor Reid to fend for himself?'
From the look on Hotch's face, she knew she didn't really have to say it aloud anyway. But both of them knew that kind of discussion wouldn't move the case forward. Better to keep one's own counsel on thoughts like those.
"No doubt they were acquainted, but we haven't heard yet if they were anything more than work colleagues."
"I wonder if any of Davidovitch's cases moved on to the other agent when he retired. What was the other name again?"
"Farrell," responded Hotch. "And I've asked Garcia to run their case files to look for overlaps."
"Well, just so you know….I can't even do my own taxes. I won't be able to find any funny money in someone else's tax records."
Hotch laughed. "Not surprising."
Emily made a mock-hurt face at him, but ended up smiling back. Despite it being at her expense, it was always refreshing to hear Hotch make a joke. And she seemed to have a knack for bringing them out.
"Seriously, how are we going to be able to look at the books?"
"We're the FBI. There's got to be an accountant lurking somewhere in the Vegas office. And….well, I thought I'd put Reid to work."
Back to the subject they'd been trying to avoid.
"You want to keep him busy, don't you?"
"His mind takes him to some difficult places even when the case isn't personal. This time…"
Emily nodded. "You're right. Maybe he can take a speed-accounting course tonight," she joked.
Hotch looked over at her. "I've got Garcia looking for one of those, too."
Emily shot wide eyes at him, and then squinted, trying to make out whether he was serious. With Hotch, one couldn't always tell. Not even Emily.
"Jeez," Morgan whistled. "This is pretty far into the middle of nowhere. How did anybody find him here? What the hell is anybody doing out here?"
They'd driven for miles along a state road, then gone off road over an hour ago, following a Nevada state trooper over the very rough terrain.
"Las Vegas is entirely surrounded by the Mojave Desert, which extends well beyond Nevada, into Utah, Arizona and California. It's over 25,000 square miles in area. Give or take."
Morgan gave him a look.
"Well, the boundaries are rough. They're mostly delineated by the Joshua tree. So changes in climate change the borders."
"Oh. Well, my other question still stands. What, in God's name, would someone be doing out here? Other than dumping a body, that is."
He was referring to the hiker who'd stumbled upon the grisly dump site. The report had been delayed by a long-standing phone outage in the nearby visitor center. The hiker had been forced to cover more ground before he could attempt to reach police.
Reid stated the obvious. "The desert is a popular area for hikers and back-packers. But, you're right, there aren't all that many who come this far out."
"Which begs the question. If the unsub dumped the body this far out, it doesn't seem like he was planning on it being found. So, then, what's the significance of the bites to the tongue and the heart? It sounded like it would be a signature, and part of a display. But who's he displaying it to?"
Reid considered that a moment. Morgan was right. The mutilation had seemed part of a message from the unsub to those he hoped would discover his victim. But then, why put the display where it was so unlikely to be seen? He finished his thought aloud.
"Unless this is the kill site. Maybe the mutilation wasn't for display. Maybe it was to satisfy some compulsion. Maybe they came out here together, but then he couldn't move the body on his own."
So many maybes. Morgan gave them all thought. "Could be. Did we get a definitive cause of death yet?"
The obvious, removal of the heart, might have happened post-mortem. They'd been called in so early in this case, that some of the information they were usually provided wasn't yet available.
"Not as of when we left the city. But we're out of cell range here." It would have to wait until they returned.
Reid was still working on the display issue. "You know, Morgan, there are less traveled areas of the desert than this. I mean, we did pass a visitor's center about ten miles up the road."
"Ten miles up the road, Reid. The road. And then we spent another hour getting here off road. I'd hardly call this well-traveled."
"I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that there are less traveled areas. So maybe the unsub was displaying, and just willing to have a delayed response to the display."
Reid was having trouble speaking, his breath coming in pants. After leaving the SUV, they'd had to hike uphill for a half mile before reaching the site where the body of Davidovitch had been found. The scene had been processed, and the body removed, yesterday. All that remained inside an area cordoned with evidence tape was a flattening of the sand and the scrub that overlay it.
"All right," said Morgan, looking around, " I'm winded after that hike, and I'm not carrying anything. What, are we at an elevation here?"
Nevada State Trooper Eli Bell answered him. "We're at about twelve hundred feet. Not exactly high desert, but enough to feel it."
"So I'm thinking the unsub couldn't have carried the body all this way. Which means this is looking more like the kill site." Morgan looked at Reid as he said it.
The genius understood. If this was a kill site, and not simply a dump site, the unsub and victim likely traveled there together, before the victim was incapacitated. And that would impact the profile. If they'd traveled to the wilderness together, perhaps the connection was something personal, rather than professional.
"What about an ATV? He might have been able to move a body that way."
"I don't know, Kid. It would be pretty tough to secure someone who wasn't conscious, let alone alive. Besides, he'd need to have transported the ATV here somehow. And the trooper said there weren't any tire marks here before the first responders."
"We should find out what the weather's been. The winds can be pretty impressive here. The sand can cover tracks within hours."
Reid bent to pick up some of that sand and run it through his fingers. As he straightened, he looked off to a horizon that seemed an impossible distance away. He'd lived near this desert for over half his life, yet never really experienced it. He'd never understood its challenge, nor its magnitude. Now, he was beginning to get a sense of both. For all of its beauty, the desert was filled with peril, and mystery.
The young genius stood, looking out over the expanse. He knew the desert might have issued him his ultimate challenge. It might have played a role in the loss of his father. And it might seek to conceal that loss from him, forever.
When he saw Rossi and JJ don their gloves, Officer Guidry felt compelled to remind them, "Remember, this isn't technically a crime scene."
Yet, thought Rossi. He had a feeling about this, and it wasn't good. But all he said was, "Better to be safe than sorry, right?"
Guidry conceded. "Right. But I already checked with my lieutenant. He said you can look, and you can even touch…but you can't take anything."
JJ didn't see why they couldn't just leave a receipt for anything they might feel a need to take, but then, she wasn't so familiar with the legalities of this kind of search. The kind where a crime may or may not have been committed. Rossi didn't seem to be arguing, so she went along.
She began her search with an inventory of William Reid's bookshelves. Like his son, he seemed to be quite the bibliophile, with shelves on three walls surrounding a sofa in what appeared to serve as a living room. Before long, she found her search slowed by a diversion of her attention toward his reading choices.
Asimov. I think Spence told me about that. Sagan. Makes sense. C.S. Lewis. Hmm. I thought he'd only written those children's books, but this is a space trilogy. Tolkien. Clark. This could be Spence's bookshelf.
Except that it contained none of the medieval literature Diana had so loved. JJ never quite knew if Diana had passed that affinity on to her son, or if he read the books only because they reminded him of his mother.
"JJ, take a look at this." Rossi interrupted her train of thought. He was at the far end of the shelves, where the books had been replaced by photos and mementos. JJ moved over to him.
"What is it?"
He was holding a framed black and white photograph. In it, a man Rossi recognized as William stood behind a group of six or seven year old boys, all in baseball tees. He introduced JJ to the image of her father-in-law.
"This is William. And….is this…" Rossi pointed to a toothless, glasses-clad boy in the front row. "…is this Spencer?"
She'd seen only one photograph of her husband as a boy. He'd explained it to her.
"My mom had a break one time, and she believed photographs could be used to torture the people in them, so she burned every picture she had of either of us."
He'd been sad, not to have a picture of his mother. But he'd also been resigned. "I have an eidetic memory. I'll always be able to see her in my mind."
And then, what seemed a miracle. He'd found a photo of himself with Diana tucked between the pages of one of her old journals. One of the ones she'd written as a young girl. Apparently the photo had become lost and, providentially, saved. They'd framed it, and it now sat on the mantle in their home.
JJ looked at the framed photograph in Rossi's hand, nodding. "That's Spence."
She took the picture from him, and smiled at the image of her husband as a young boy, among other young boys. It was the first time she'd been able to conjure an image of him with anything resembling a normal childhood. Looking at the photograph, JJ was momentarily able to forget all of the pain of Spence's youth, and look upon him as a youngster, the same age Henry was now, enjoying the camaraderie of his teammates, and the investment of his father. The thought of it, and of what followed, brought wetness to her eyes, and anger to her spirit.
He was so innocent. So undeserving of what happened to him. What could you have been thinking?
In truth, she wasn't sure whether it was William Reid or God she was angry with, for this boy who'd lost his youth at such a tender age. All she knew was that she was angry.
Now I understand, Spence. And I'm sorry I ever reached out to him.
All this transpired in JJ's head in matter of seconds. But it was long enough for Rossi to notice.
"Are you all right, Cara?" He spoke softly, not wanting Guidry to realize her reaction. They'd not chosen to tell the officer about her family connection to the potential victim.
She shook it off. "I'm fine. Just…. I'm starting to get it."
She began to move away, but then turned back.
"God, Rossi. He was just a boy. It would be like Spence suddenly walking out on Henry. I mean….for all my little boy has been through…." She had to compose herself, as she always did when she thought of how much loss Henry had endured. "…..for all that, he's never had to think he didn't matter. That no one cared about him. But Spence…"
"Spencer is resilient, thank God."
Knowing, even without having been there for all of it, that Reid had been called upon to demonstrate that resilience time and again. Now Rossi turned to face his young colleague directly.
"You need to tell me, young JJ. Can you do this? Can you investigate this case the same way you would any other? Your feelings about William Reid are understandable. But can you put them aside?"
When he saw her taken aback, he continued. "It would be perfectly understandable if this was too close. It's your husband's father. You don't need to work it, and neither does he."
JJ closed her eyes, effortfully bringing herself back to an impassive stance.
"I'm sorry if I got emotional, Rossi. It won't happen again. Or, if it does…" She'd seen a bit of disbelief in his look, "….if it does, you can call me out on it...call either of us out... and we'll step back. We don't want to compromise the team. But I know that Spence needs to do this…."
Rossi put up a palm. "Understood. So, let's get back to work. Why don't I finish with these, and you can take a look around the rest of the place?"
He was trying to move her away from the personal mementos that seemed to trigger her emotional response, and JJ knew it. Just like she knew he was right.
"Okay… okay, you're right. I'll take the bedrooms and bath.."
"Agreed."
JJ headed down the hallway, noting. as she passed him, that Officer Guidry had taken up a seat at the small kitchen table and seemed to be texting on his cell.
"Do you need to observe me in the other rooms?" Letting him know that she was aware he'd been making sure nothing untoward took place in the living room.
Guidry seemed uncertain, now that the FBI agents were separating. "Umm… no, I guess you're okay by yourself. Just give a yell if you find something."
Right. JJ proceded down a short hallway and into a gray bedroom. Literally. The walls were gray, as was the carpet and the curtains. Only the bedding broke up the color scheme, with a black bedspread serving as a backdrop for bright burgundy pillows and shams.
Almost not there. But there. The gray suggested a desire to blend into the background, the bright burgundy a willingness to be noticed. It seemed there might be some complexity to William after all.
A quick purview of the room yielded little. The dresser top was empty, the bed unadorned. A small master bath held only towels and a few toiletries. The bedroom closet displayed neatly hung dress shirts, slacks and suit jackets, with a few folded jeans and sweaters on the built-in shelves. Absently, JJ skimmed the racks for sweater vests and scarves, and was disappointed not to find the sartorial connection between father and son. But then her eye caught something.
She stood on tiptoes to reach all the way to the back of the high closet shelf, pulling a box forward. As she lifted it down, she was impressed with its weight. The box obviously held something of some heft.
JJ brought the box over to the dresser and laid it down. She wriggled the top from it and looked inside. Instantly, she recognized the contents….and was shocked to see them.
But how….? And why?