echoes still - part two
Jun. 25th, 2011 08:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
weaselettTitle: echoes still: part two
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
weaselett
Artist:pe1804
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Type: Gen, mentions of femslash and het: slightly AU from canon
Rating/Warnings: 15 (for descriptions of violence and some language)
Word Count for this part: 7,649
POV Characters: Ashley Seaver, Aaron Hotchner
Spoilers: Spoilers up to Season Six episode 10 (what happens at home).
Summary: There's a serial killer in New York, one who leaves no evidence behind at the crime scene and always seems to be one step ahead of the team investigating the murders. Their best chance seems to lie with the BAU, for whom the case brings back old memories. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
casestory.
For full warning see masterpost here
New York, 2010
Ashley had somehow managed to make it back to her apartment the night before, stumbling through the door and stripping out of her clothes as soon as it shut behind her. Her coat, once she’d emptied the pockets out onto the coffee table, had been dumped in the bin.
The blood might come out, but she’d never forget it’d been there. She hadn’t liked that coat anyway.
Mellie hadn’t said a word, she’d just turned on the shower and left Ashley to it, making her a mug of tea while she waited. Under different circumstances, Ashley would have greeted her girlfriend more appropriately, but all she’d known at that moment was she wanted to be clean.
Ashley shuddered as she stood in the elevator, watching the numbers count up to the main floor. She was wearing one of Mellie’s jackets, which was a little looser than any of her own, but the familiar smell of Mellie’s favourite perfume was a comfort.
Ashley stepped out as soon the elevator doors opened, and made a beeline for her desk, she offered Donavon a weak smile before heading to the break room to make herself a cup of tea. It was still early enough that the only people in were those with urgent, on-going cases.
“Daire’s called in the BAU,” Donavon informed her when she got back to her desk, making it sound casual, even as he watched to see how she reacted to the news, “after last night’s mess, she put her foot down. Took complete control of the investigation and said it was time to admit that we need some help.”
Ashley’s eyes widened. She’d been lucky so far, or at least that’s what she’d always been told, that she hadn’t bumped into any of the BAU teams. The BAU were the ones who got called in on the cases that were complicated. That was the word her old boss had used, complicated. Most people seemed to think the BAU only investigated when people died weird, but that wasn’t true. They profiled whoever they were asked to profile, provided there had been a crime committed. It wasn’t something many people knew about though; the idea of a profile for a white collar criminal was nowhere near as exciting as a murderer. It didn’t make good news; unless the guy was especially media friendly.
At least Donavon had waited until she’d put her mug down before telling her. She’d already had to mop up spilt tea once this month; she didn’t really want to have to do it again. He could have waited till she’d sat down as well, but he rarely did.
“Do,” Ashley hesitated, trying not to sound anything but curious. She forced herself to take a deep breath before she looked up, meeting Donavon’s gaze, “Do you know which team is coming?”
Donavon frowned and Ashley fought not to react; apparently it didn’t take a profiler to know she was uneasy.
“I’ve heard a lot about them, they’re like a myth.” Ashley added, trying for her best reassuring smile, and ignoring the look that Donavon gave her in return.
“I guess they are, especially around here, after what happened the last time Hotchner’s team was here. Hell, anytime Hotchner’s team is in New York it’s bad.” Donavon shook his head, before taking a healthy swallow of coffee.
“How many times have they been here?” Ashley knew about the last time, more because it was part and parcel of the office gossip about Daire, than because anyone was interested in talking about the BAU. Daire hadn’t been the first choice to replace Joyner, or even the second, if rumour was to be believed. Ashley honestly didn’t know how she would feel in Daire’s position, especially now that the first choice for her job was coming to town to help her on a case.
“A good few, it’s not like it’s a surprise that the BAU comes out here a lot, it’s just that recently it always seems to be Hotchner’s team.” Donavon made a face as he reached the last dregs of coffee in his mug, “You know what’s worse about it these days?”
Derek Morgan, Ashley thought, though she doubted Donavon was thinking the same thing. He liked his superiors to have thick skins, she’d lived through enough of his rants on incompetent, jelly legged higher ups often enough to know that. He probably expected Daire to verbally beat Derek Morgan down at the first opportunity. “Not a clue.”
Donavon rolled his eyes, leaning sideways to place his mug on top of the pile of paperwork that was his desk, “David Rossi.”
It took a moment for Ashley to remember how to breathe, and she was insanely thankful that she hadn’t had a mouthful of tea. Spitting tea all over your partner was always embarrassing.
Donavon grinned, “Yup, that David Rossi.”
Ashley rolled her eyes, letting him think that she was a Rossi fangirl. It was better than the truth.
“His ego isn’t as big as you’d think, apparently, but just you be sure not to fawn over him when he strolls through that door. He’s here to do the same job as me and you, not to sign any books.” Donavon picked his mug back up and brandished it at Ashley, and she nodded dutifully, grinning as he muttered something about respect under his breath as he moved towards the coffee pot.
Ashley sagged a little once he was out of sight, leaning back against the wall and trying to remember the names of Hotchner’s other team members. There’s Hotchner, Morgan, and Rossi, and she thinks there’s another man and two women. The names had probably been mentioned by someone, at some point, but it was Hotchner and Morgan who had been the focus of the stories about the last time the BAU had come to town.
Ashley straightened as the door to Daire’s office opened, moving away from the wall and towards her desk. It was neater than Donavon’s, but she was fairly sure it was because she had less paperwork than he did, and she didn’t have many personal items. His desk had a collection of photos of his family, his pets and a number of random toys. She’d been addicted to his various kinetic toys, especially the acrobat, for the entirety of her second week in New York.
Ashley was fairly sure that they got along as well as they did because she was just as messy as him, and she didn’t do skirts. Or absurdly high heels. Often.
Ashley made it to her desk just as Daire drew level, and she couldn’t help but tense. Constantly wishing to be the perfect employee was one of the more annoying side effects of having a crush on her boss. There were days when she was almost afraid to leave her desk to use the restroom for fear that Daire might see her desk empty.
“They’re on their way up.” There was nothing in Daire’s voice to suggest that she felt anything, positive or negative about the BAU’s arrival, and Ashley couldn’t really see anything in her expression either.
“OK.” Ashley managed not to wince, somehow, after the word escaped her mouth. She hadn’t actually needed to say anything, and she was sure she could have thought of something better to say than that. And she really, really needed to stop second guessing every single interaction she had with her boss.
For her part, Daire’s expression remained unchanged as she moved to take up the position Ashley had vacated, drumming her fingers against the wall and studiously not looking in the direction of the entrance to the bullpen.
Apparently Ashley wasn’t the only one nervous about the impending arrivals. Through Ashley doubted that either of Daire’s parents were serial killers, or that she’d had any kind of interaction with the BAU as a child, it was more likely that she was just impatient to get moving on the case.
Daraca MacTaggart wasn’t, after all, known for having an abundance of patience. That was one of the reasons that she and Donavon got along so well, which wasn’t, Ashley knew, necessarily a good thing.
Donavon returned from his coffee run, with two extra mugs, silently handing one to Daire and the other to Ashley before he settled with his own. The smell of vanilla was almost overwhelming, and Ashley mentally added that to her list of cons. She couldn’t stand the smell of vanilla.
“They on their way up?” Donavon questioned idly, one hand hunting through his desk drawer for his stash of cookies.
Daire nodded, turning a little so that her attention was fixed on him, but with the entrance still visible out of the corner of her eye. They were taking their time. Ashley took a moment to wonder if they had a thing for dramatic entrances and were waiting for the perfect moment to walk through the door, long overcoats swirling around their legs, heads held high.
It would certainly match the view a lot of people had of them.
She’d just taken her first, rather ginger, sip of her coffee, when the doors opened, and the seven BAU agents stepped through. She waited, holding herself out of the way, as Daire leaned forward to put down her mug before doing the same herself. Donavon dropped his cookies back into his drawer before he lowered his mug to the desk, giving Daire time to approach the agents first, before he stood and followed. Ashley trailed behind him; she knew her place in the hierarchy.
The only reason she was even getting to work directly with the BAU was she was Donavon’s partner, and he was the most senior agent in the office, which meant he got all the major violent crimes cases.
The younger of the two women, a youthful blonde, stepped forward, taking up position next to the dark haired, solemn man, who looked vaguely familiar, though Ashley wasn’t sure why.
“Jennifer Jareau,” the woman introduced herself, before she gestured to the man beside her, “these are SSA’s Hotchner,” then the greying man on Hotchner’s other side, who didn’t really need an introduction, “Rossi, Morgan,” Morgan stood behind Hotchner, his dark face unreadable, “Prentiss,” the brunette standing next to Morgan, who offered them all a brief smile, “and Doctor Reid.” Ashley eyed the young man. He looked younger than most of the doctors she knew, but she’d heard enough about Spencer Reid to not question it. How she’d forgotten that he was a member of Hotchner’s team, she wasn’t sure. Memories were tricky things.
Daire shook Jareau’s hand, “SSA MacTaggart, these are SSA Donavon, and SA Seaver.”
Ashley offered them a faint smile, while Donavon shook hands with each of them in turn. Rossi didn’t recognise her, she could tell, but that wasn’t a surprise. It had been a long time, and he’d worked a lot of cases. Maybe if she was one of the victims he’d saved he would have remembered her. It doesn’t matter, she reminds herself, as Daire gives them a brief rundown of the situation. She doesn’t care that he doesn’t remember her.
If she’d wanted to be remembered as the daughter of a serial killer, she wouldn’t have changed her surname.
“We’d like to visit the crime scenes.” Hotchner spoke up for the first time, drawing Ashley’s attention. His voice was defiantly familiar, but she couldn’t place where they’d met, and that was going to bother her for a while.
“Of course, Seaver and Donavon can accompany your people, they know the case.”
Hotchner nodded, “Good. Morgan, Reid, go to the latest crime scene with Agent Seaver, Rossi, Prentiss, the third with Agent Donavon,” The agents all nodded their understanding, while Ashley cursed mentally, why couldn’t they go en masse to each crime scene? “Is there somewhere we can set up?”
Daire nodded, her best professional smile in place, even as she gave Ashley and Donavon her best ‘play nice’ glare. She knew them both far too well, and Ashley was fairly sure that Daire was happy they had been split up. It meant that Donavon would play stoic experienced agent, while Ashley ended up being the wet behind the ears rookie, too unsure to offer any comments.
Ashley hated being the rookie. It didn’t matter that was exactly what she was when it came to murder scenes, she didn’t like it. It was one of the reasons she’d taken to spending time on the firing range.
White collar didn’t see much need to actually use their guns, and she’d spent the vast majority of her time in the office. Violent crimes, on the other hand, tended to use their guns, or at least brandish them around a lot more. Plus, one of the homicide cops had actually laughed at her the one time she’d pulled her gun. It really sucked when people found your inexperience amusing.
Especially when they started a pool.
“SA Seaver.” Morgan pulled a set of SUV keys out of his pocket, before motioning towards the door.
Ashley managed a smile, ignoring the tone of voice he’d used; she’d been paying attention. She’d just been waiting for them to say they were ready. “Lead on.”
Morgan gave her one last look before he turned on his heel and led the way out of the bullpen. Reid, for his part, offered Ashley what she guessed was meant to be a reassuring smile. It didn’t really work; she knew all too well what was coming.
Agent Morgan’s driving was better than Donavon’s, Ashley had to give him that much credit, but he clearly wasn’t used to New York traffic. Doctor Reid had suggested a few alternate routes to the scene, listing off statistics, but Morgan had made it clear he wasn’t interested.
Ashley couldn’t help but wonder how many people had misread the men’s relationship over the years. Their banter didn’t always sound friendly, especially when Morgan started calling Reid kid, and telling him to stop talking. If it weren’t for the affectionate undertone to the words, and a faint smile Morgan directed at Reid, she might have thought they didn’t get along.
Ashley trailed after the two men as they walked down the sidewalk to the alleyway where Madison Keller’s body had been found, pulling her coat a little tighter around herself. It wasn’t raining, though the ground was still wet and the air cool, but that didn’t matter. Ashley could still remember what it was like, when she’d first come around the corner and into the alleyway.
She would always recognise the smell of blood, and other things, mingled with rain and trash.
Morgan flipped open the file in his hands as they came to a stop a few feet into the alleyway, a steady flow of people continuing on past down the sidewalk, none of them pausing for more than a moment as they glanced sideways. Ashley doubted that many of them knew why there were three people standing in the alleyway; they probably didn’t remember where Madison Keller’s body was found, if they’d even noticed any of the facts when they’d read the front page.
People always remembered that someone had been murdered, and how, but they rarely remembered the name. They might remember it was a black prostitute, or a white shop girl, might remember a vague area where the body had been found within, but they rarely remembered the names. Unless it was a rich kid whose parents had too much money for their child to become another forgotten victim.
Ashley stood to one side, watching as Morgan walked the scene, exchanging a few comments with Reid before he turned to look at Ashley, waving the file in her direction as he did. “The body was here?” Morgan motioned towards the trash bin.
Ashley nodded, shifting her weight a little, “From the street all you could see was her legs, sticking out into the alley.”
Reid was frowning, and Ashley hoped it wasn’t because of anything she’d said. Not that it could be, considering the fact that all she’d done was confirm what the report would have already told them.
“Like the body was deliberately hidden?” it was Reid’s turn to ask a question apparently.
“Well, you could see it from any of these windows,” Ashley motioned to the buildings around them, “and,” she hesitated, trying to think of words to adequately cover what she’d seen, “the killer, they seem to like, it wasn’t just her legs you could see.”
Morgan flipped through the file, “You mean the way the unsub mutilated the body?”
Ashley swallowed hard before she nodded, pulling her coat tighter still, “Even with the rain, you could see, it was hard to tell what though, until you got close, you would have had to step into the alley to know what it was you were seeing.” It sounded better, when she wasn’t describing it from her own perspective, and she didn’t want to throw up so badly anymore.
Both profilers were watching her, and she had to fight the urge to turn away, or shift under the intensity of it. She had a right to be uncomfortable, to not want to remember what she’d seen. It was bad enough having to look at the crime scene photos back at the office.
They had to have felt the same, once, although maybe not for a while; she didn’t want to think that they’d never been bothered by the crime scenes. She could understand getting used to them, building up a skin, or armour, or whatever you wanted to call it, but she didn’t think she’d ever understand a person who had never been bothered.
Maybe they would. It was a part of their job after all.
“The unsub mutilated the body with a purpose,” Reid commented, finally looking away from Ashley, he moved around the trash bin, stopping once he was on the other side. He was standing almost exactly where the body had lain.
“We’d guessed that already, from the way the unsub posed her,” Morgan agreed.
“You mean her hair?” Ashley asked without thinking, a blush rising on her cheeks as they both turned to look at her again. She wasn’t supposed to be asking questions, she was supposed to be helping them, providing any extra information they wanted, if she could.
A tiny smile touched Morgan’s lips before he turned back to Reid and Ashley relaxed.
“We’re using the crime scene as a witness,” Reid informed her, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little, “in most cases the victim is the most important witness, but when the victim of a crime is dead, we have to use the crime scene. We’re looking at the non-physical factors.”
Ashley frowned, “Non-physical factors?”
Reid nodded, smiling, “When we say non-physical factors, we tend to mean behaviour, or at least the signifiers of behaviour that are present in the crime scene. Did the unsub bring the weapon with them, did they have a plan, that kind of thing. And it isn’t just because this particular case is somewhat lacking in physical evidence. We do the same thing at every crime scene we visit. A lot of the time it’s the non-physical evidence that helps the most in developing a profile. The crime scene photos help, but we learn more from actually seeing the scene. There are things that aren’t always included in the photos, or there are aspects that get overlooked.”
Ashley nodded along, more than a little daunted in the face of the mini lecture. She hadn’t ever really considered just what profiling entailed, but she’d never really been interested in stuff like that, had avoided it as much as she could.
It didn’t look like she was going to get to avoid it anymore. Not if she was around Reid, he seemed to delight in sharing his considerable knowledge, and she was fairly sure she had somehow managed to give him the impression she’d enjoyed it.
It had been interesting; she just hadn’t really taken it all in. She kept seeing Madison’s body, each example he’d given making the memory just a little more present. She really needed to work on not letting herself get eaten up by this case.
Morgan had closed the file at some point during Doctor Reid’s lecture, and his expression had shifted from sombre to mildly amused. Obviously it wasn’t unusual for Reid to take an opportunity to lecture on a subject, but judging from the Morgan’s expression, Ashley had the feeling she was one of the few people not to interrupt him mid flow.
Which was just great; they had to have a list of things that showed just how green she was. All she could do was hope that they wouldn’t hold it against her.
“All right,” Morgan moved towards the entrance to the alley, motioning for Ashley to follow him, “the victim was walking past the alley when the unsub got the jump on her?”
Ashley nodded, “We could see that much on the camera footage. Her family told us she walked this way every night, as part of her normal route home.”
“So, she had a routine, and the unsub knew this was a good place to hide out and wait for her,” Morgan motioned Ashley out onto the street, and she hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder to Reid, eyes wide. He didn’t seem worried, at all. “Hey.” Ashley turned back to Morgan, but stayed where she was, “It’s ok, I just want to get a feel for how this all went down.”
“You mean you want me to play the victim?” It might not be the best wording for it, but that was what he was asking.
Morgan nodded, holding his hands up, “I swear, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Ashley sighed, and rolled her eyes before walking out past him and onto the sidewalk, “You’ve been in the alley for about ten minutes when I walk past.” She walked the exact line Madison had in the footage she’d watched, keeping her gaze forward, not looking into the alley. The poor woman hadn’t seen her killer coming.
“Then I step out behind you, and pull you into the alley,” Morgan said, giving her warning before he stepped up behind her and slipped an arm around her neck, like their unsub had, his other hand closing gently around her upper arm, which he used to pull her with him back into the alley and out of sight of the camera.
“You struggle, but you can’t get away, somehow I manage to get you to where you want to without anyone hearing anything.” Morgan let go of Ashley as they drew level with the trash bin.
“According to the ME report the victims were all strangled, but it wasn’t the cause of death,” Reid commented.
“And if there’s something around your neck, it’s hard to make all that much noise,” Morgan shook his head, staying silent for a moment as he looked around the alleyway again, “So, the unsub strangles the victim, stopping them from struggling or crying out, then kills them with the knife, and poses the body.”
He moved, kneeling by the trash bin, next to where the body had been, glancing over his shoulder towards the street, “If anyone had looked down here, they would have seen the unsub.”
Ashley shook her head, pointing up at the light on the side of building, “It doesn’t work. The only light would have been from the street.”
Morgan sighed, looking down at the ground, “So, once the unsub had her, they could take their time, provided no one came down the alley.”
Ashley winced, tugging on her coat again. If there was one thing that bothered her about this case, it was the time that the killer, the unsub, had taken with each of their victims. They’d all died slowly, and in a lot of pain.
“You know,” Morgan frowned as he straightened up, turning to Reid, “there’s something about this case.”
“There are similarities to a few other cases,” Reid offered, bouncing a little. Ashley had a feeling that he could probably list all of the cases it was like, and why, in vivid detail.
“We should head back to the office.” Morgan commented, cutting off any further comments that Reid might have made. Ashley followed them as they made their way back to the SUV and silently climbed into the back seat.
She wondered idly, as they drove back to the field office, whether Donavon had had a similar experience at the other crime scene, or if he’d just stood by and watched, speaking only when spoken to.
She doubted she would get a chance to ask.
-
Mountrail County, North Dakota, 1996
The Mountrail County Sheriff’s Department was about what Aaron had expected it to be; small and very rural. He could feel the stares of the locals as they climbed out of their SUVs, and he wondered how they were feeling.
It had been a long drive, broken by a night spent in a tiny motel in the middle of nowhere, and he’d traded off driving with Rossi every so often. For most of the drive they’d been travelling through places he’d never seen before; he just wished it had been for a nicer reason. You didn’t get to sightsee while investigating a serial killer.
He’d read through the files during the drive, whenever he hadn’t been behind the wheel, and what little detail there was hadn’t been pleasant. Almost all of the victims were from Mountrail County, which covered a fairly big area, with a lot of green space between towns, and worse, none of them had been high risk. No runaways or prostitutes, and none under twenty-five.
The sheriff, Andrew Hawkes, a tall, heavy built grey-haired man, greeted them, his expression grim. Nodding to each of them as Rossi introduced them. “It’s good to have you here; I know we should have called you in sooner,” his gaze shifted to Rossi for a moment, “but in all honestly we’d all been hoping that it was just coincidence.”
Aaron winced; they hadn’t called in any help because of wishful thinking. It had probably been easier saying that when it had just been one victim a year, reasoning that it couldn’t be one of the locals, it had to be an outsider, someone passing by. Three deaths in one year, spread out across the seasons, couldn’t be dismissed so easily.
“The eighth victim, Veronica Kemp, she was my first murder, my first year as Sheriff,” Hawkes shook his head, sighing, “No one told me there’d been more with the same MO; I didn’t even think to look until they called in Audrey’s body.”
“Audrey Taylor?” Rossi asked, frowning.
Hawkes nodded, “Yeah, she was the tenth, she’d been missing a week when they found her. Three women, killed the same way, I figured it had to be the same guy. I’ve spent the last few years trying my hardest to catch this son of a bitch, but he leaves so little behind. There’s almost nothing to work with, and all anyone can say is they don’t know anyone who’d be capable of something like this.”
Hawkes shook his head, before turning, motioning for them to follow him into the station. “Best we continue this inside.”
Rossi and Cole lead the way, and Aaron let the others go ahead of him, gaining a knowing look from Nancy. She was always telling him his mother should be proud, managing to raise him to have good manners. Half of the agents in the office seemed to forget they had ever had any manners at all.
The inside of the Sheriff’s station was bigger than Aaron had expected, considering its outside appearance, and there were a number of deputies milling around; some actually working, others clearly more interested in watching the feds. Hawkes lead them through the bullpen and into a side room, which was just big enough to hold a conference table and chairs, as well as the case boards that took up one side of the room, covering the wall.
Aaron closed the door to the room, ignoring the looks he received from two of the deputies. If the sheriff had wanted them to hear what happened, he would have asked them to join the meeting.
“In all honesty,” Hawkes picked back up where he’d left off, “I never really thought to call you in. I’ve been in contact with NDBI, but with the lack of evidence they’ve left it to us. I’ve been sending whatever evidence we’ve had out to them, and they’ve lent us crime scene people, but that’s been about it.”
Katie perched on the edge of the conference table, “So what made you call us now?”
“My wife,” Hawkes shrugged, “she attends these lectures from time to time, at Georgetown, takes a whole week off to herself. The last one she attended was one of Jason Gideon’s. When I got the call the other night, first thing she said to me was ‘if it’s another woman murdered, you’d best call the feds’.”
“Smart woman.” Rossi commented, drawing a smile from Hawkes.
“That she is.” Hawkes waited a beat before he spoke again, addressing Rossi, “So, how do you want to do this?”
Rossi paused, glancing to Katie, who shrugged, clearly happy to let him run the show. “If you could have a deputy take me and Hotchner out to the last crime scene, Cole and the others will start on interviewing the families, if that’s all right with you?”
Hawkes nodded, “Deputy Campbell can take you out there, he was the first on scene when they found her. I’ve got Imogen Jordan’s husband coming in an hour, I figured you’d want to talk to him. It still hasn’t sunk in, he spent the last month certain that she’d just gone to visit her sister. He’s the one that ID’d the body, but he still doesn’t really believe it. It was the same with a few of the other families.”
Aaron followed Rossi and Hawkes as they left the little conference room, ignoring the look that Hamilton threw him. Deputy Campbell turned out to be one of the people who had been working when they’d entered, as well as looking to be the youngest of the deputies. Campbell led the way outside to his patrol car. Aaron hesitated for a moment before climbing in the back, knowing that it would mean that one of the others would have to let him out. The only upside was, unlike a lot of the patrol cars Aaron had seen, the back of this one was clean and didn’t smell unpleasant.
Rossi opened the door for Aaron when they reached the crime scene, making a show of it despite the bemused look it drew from Campbell. The crime scene wasn’t too far from the station, on the outskirts of Ross, but Aaron had been very aware of the open countryside as they’d driven between Stanley and Ross.
There was a line of crime scene tape, marking off a corner of the woodland, close enough to the houses that it could be seen, but far enough away that it wasn’t clearly visible. At night anyone who happened to be in the woods would be almost totally invisible. Aaron sighed, glancing back down the road, remembering the bus stop he’d caught sight of as they’d passed.
Campbell motioned towards the very edge of the trees. The crime scene tape reached a few yards in before it stopped, circling back around to the road. “She was there, just into the trees, once I knew she was there, I could see her, but,” he stopped shaking his head, looking like he wanted to throw up. Aaron took a little step to one side. He liked his shoes more than he wanted to offer the young deputy any comfort. The man was lucky, once this unsub was caught it was likely he’d never see another dead body again.
Rossi patted Campbell on the arm, motioning back to the patrol car, holding up the file that he’d brought with him, “It’s ok kid, we’ve got it for now.”
Campbell nodded quickly, turned and hurried back to the car.
Rossi watched him go before he turned to Aaron, with a smile, “How many crime scene have you profiled so far?”
“Three,” Aaron answered. It wasn’t many, but it was more than he’d expected. There hadn’t been many cases that had been deemed worthy of the presence of more than one profiler, and even fewer that had been considered suitable for training. He’d seen the aftermath of a fire, an abduction site, and a dump site. There hadn’t been any dead bodies, but Aaron had seen enough of those already. He’d killed a good few people himself, seen death up close and personal; such was the hand dealt to a member of SWAT.
Rossi frowned, “We’ll have to see what we can do about changing that.” He flipped open the file, pulling the photos to the front before motioning for Aaron to follow him under the tape and closer to where the body had been found.
Aaron glanced back again, to see if he could still see the bus stop, “There’s a bus stop down the road.” He pointed it out to the other man, not sure if he’d seen it as they’d passed.
Rossi nodded, “There’s nothing in the file to say, but we’ll see if the family can confirm that she’d been using a bus. There’s no mention of her having taken a car, so it would make sense.”
Aaron eyed the photos before taking in the scene, imagining it complete with body. There wasn’t anything, no signs of disturbance that looked like it predated the crime scene techs, but it had been a week since the victim had been killed. Any signs the unsub might have left behind were long gone. Aaron sighed, at the other crime scenes he’d at least felt like he’d gained something from visiting them, now he just felt more frustrated.
He glanced to Rossi, watching as the other man noted something down in his notebook in blue pen, having tucked the case file under his arm. He waited for a moment, to see if Rossi was going to offer any comments, before he spoke up, “There’s nothing here.”
Rossi quirked an eyebrow, finally looking up from his notebook, “So, you think the unsub dragged her over here, kicking and screaming, and no one noticed a thing?”
“There were ligature marks around her neck, I don’t think she could have screamed, even if she wanted to.” Aaron pointed out, glancing back towards the houses. Noise would probably carry out here at night, but if they were asleep, or watching TV or something, they wouldn’t hear anything. Even if she could have screamed, they might not have heard, or even known what it was. He wondered if the sheriff had canvassed the area.
“So,” Aaron wondered if Rossi was going to start every sentence with that word, “you figure the unsub grabbed her, strangled her to subdue her, then carried her over here where they were less likely to be seen?”
Aaron nodded, moving so he was standing next to the dip in the snow and turning to face the road. The trees obscured the view to his left, but he had a clear view of the road. The ground sloped down to the road. If it had been light when the unsub had killed Imogen, someone would have seen something. “It had to have been dark, there’s too clear a view of this place when it’s light.”
Rossi smiled, nodding, “So,” Aaron managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes, “he attacks when it’s dark. Lays in wait somewhere until she’s got her back to him, and then catches her from behind.”
“It fits the evidence we’ve got.” Aaron said, reaching out to take the case file from Rossi. They looked over the photos for a little longer, but there’s nothing else. The body was arranged with purpose, but they can’t get much from the photos. If they had seen the body in situ, they might have been able to get something more.
Rossi reclaimed the file, making a final note before slipping his notepad and pen back into his pocket. “Time to head back to the station, see if anything they’ve learned from the husband fits what we’ve got.”
Aaron didn’t bother to point out that what they had really wasn’t much more than they’d started out with. He wasn’t even sure it would help narrow down the profile all that much.
Ben was the only one in the conference room when they made it back to the station, a pile of files scattered over the table in front of him. Aaron had caught sight of Nancy at one of the desks in the bullpen, phone to her ear and a notepad in front of her. He guessed Katie and Hamilton were still interviewing.
“Anything interesting?” Rossi questioned, dropping his file onto the table.
Ben shook his head, “There’s a lot to go through, but I haven’t found anything yet.”
Aaron moved forward a little, close enough that he could read the covers of some of the files. They looked like financial records, which meant that Ben was likely looking for any signs of connections between the victims. It was something that could be done on computer Aaron guessed, but there were still a lot of people who preferred to do things the old fashioned way; he wouldn’t be surprises if some of the financial records only existed in paper form. There was also the fact it didn’t look like the Mountrail County Sheriff’s Department had many computers.
“Keep at it.” Rossi ordered and Ben nodded, though Aaron knew it was more out of habit than anything. The BAU researchers all knew what they were doing, better than some of the profilers, and Ben had worked with Rossi almost as much as Nancy had.
Rossi eyed the other files on the table for a moment before sorting them into piles and pushing one towards Aaron, “Go see Nancy, make sure that she hasn’t called any of these people yet, then start calling. Get as much information about the victim’s routines as possible.”
Aaron nodded, taking the pile from Rossi, and then searched out his own notes on the crime scenes for a reference point. Phone interviews were always interesting, but they saved time. He would make notes anyway, if any of them sounded like they might be holding back he could always ask them to come in for a more official interview.
He glanced at the clock, it was almost four in the afternoon, and with no fresh crime scene, Aaron suspected Rossi would order them to back to the motel before it got too late. There came a time when people wouldn’t be willing to answer their phones, let alone answer questions about a dead loved one.
Aaron had managed to speak to five people before Rossi had called it a day, gathered the team together and headed for the motel, which had turned out to be nicer than Aaron had expected. They’d eaten a quick meal together before they’d split up, and the first thing Aaron had done was call Haley.
It was an agreement they’d put in place when he’d first taken the position, knowing that at some point he was going to be travelling. He would call in the morning and the evening, fitting in other calls if he could, though he had to keep Haley’s work schedule in mind. They didn’t always talk for long, sometimes they barely spoke, but they both found it reassuring, and Haley didn’t have to worry about him.
He’d listened patiently as she’d detailed the events of her day, leaning back against the door of his room and letting the sound of her voice wash over him. He was fairly sure that she hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t really taken in anything she’d said.
Aaron had been up early, but he’d never managed to sleep past six anyway, not for years, and it gave him some time to look the files over again. He had a list of the notable aspects of each crime scene, from what he could see in the photos. He’d tried to profile the same way he had with all of his files, back in the bunker, but it took more effort to get beyond the fact there was so little physical evidence.
Aaron sighed, stabbing at a strange piece of scrambled egg. The diner next to the motel offered better food than some of the places Haley had taken him, and it was a whole lot cheaper.
“Did the egg do something to offend you?”
Aaron jumped, narrowly avoiding dropping his fork. He hadn’t heard Rossi approach, lost in thought as he’d been.
Rossi grinned, dropping into one of the chairs on the other side of the table and nodding to the waitress. He ordered quickly, thanking the woman as she handed him a mug of coffee. “It’s going to be another long day,” he commented before taking a long drink of his coffee and slumping in his chair a little. Aaron was more aware than ever of the weight of Rossi’s gaze.
“Hawkes is right, there’s really not much evidence.” Aaron commented, not really feeling like beating around the bush. They were hunting someone who had killed eighteen woman and hadn’t left much behind for them to work with.
It would have been nice to have an easier case for his first field investigation of a serial killer, even if there was a voice in the back of his head telling him that an easier case would have meant more victims and a much shorter amount of time.
Rossi shrugged, “There are more cases like this than people would like you to think. It’s like Jack the Ripper, guy barely left a shred of evidence, never got caught. The thing is, you take that case, you give the details to a profiler, and they’ll give you a profile. Odds are, if Jack the Ripper had gone on his killing spree a hundred years later, he’d’ve been caught.”
“You really think that?”
Rossi frowned, lowering his cup and eying Aaron for a long moment, “You don’t?”
Aaron shrugged, “Is a profile enough?”
Rossi raised an eyebrow, “Enough?”
“Once we have a working profile, and it leads us to a suspect, how do we prove they’re really the killer?” He’d been coming back to that all night; he’d lost cases because there hadn’t been enough evidence. It had been different with SWAT, partly because it hadn’t been something he’d needed to worry about, and partly because a lot of the people they’d been called in to take down had committed their crimes in front of witnesses.
Rossi leaned back in his chair a little more, and Aaron couldn’t help but wonder if the suspects, while being interviewed by Rossi, had felt the way he did just now. It wasn’t that he thought Rossi could see into his soul, it was more like Rossi was judging him, poking until he could figure out what made him tick. “We do the best we can.”
It was a better answer than Aaron had expected, more honest, more true. He knows if he were to ask Gideon, or Ryan, they’d tell him the profile was enough, but Aaron can list any number of cases where it wasn’t.
And then there are the cases where the profile was wrong. Or at least, if not wrong, had been used wrong. He knows, he’s seen, comparisons between the profile and the suspect who was finally caught, but he’s seen the original working as well. Profiling is a tool, and like any tool, it’s the way it’s used that’s important.
“You know, I might have to get in on that pool.” Rossi said.
“Which one?”
Rossi snorted, “The one about your shelf life.”
Aaron rolled his eyes; he was surprised that Rossi hadn’t already made a bet. “I’m not saying I don’t believe in what we do, it’s just…” Aaron stopped, not really sure how to put what he was feeling into words. He’d spent too long staring at pictures of murdered women the night before.
“You know, there’s a reason I always take a break, step back from the case,” Rossi was deliberately keeping his tone casual, but Aaron could hear the undertone of disapproval, “this job is hard, Hotchner. We spend so much time looking at some of the worst things imaginable, and getting into the heads of the people reasonable for them. It’s not pretty, but you’ve got to find a way to take a step back.”
Aaron didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t agree, not really, he didn’t work the way Rossi seemed to. He couldn’t take a step back, not completely, not while there was still work he could be doing. He could close himself off, look at it all objectively, but taking a break always seemed a little too much like failure. He wanted to know what it was that had made the unsub pick these women; wanted to find the connection that would give them some kind of evidence to support the profile they were building.
Rossi didn’t press him after that, either because he’d already made up his mind, or because he’d decided Aaron was a lost cause, Aaron wasn’t really sure.
Rossi hummed, drinking the last of his coffee and glancing at his watch, “Best finish up and head to the station.”
-
Part Three - Progress
Author:
weaselettArtist:
pe1804Fandom: Criminal Minds
Type: Gen, mentions of femslash and het: slightly AU from canon
Rating/Warnings: 15 (for descriptions of violence and some language)
Word Count for this part: 7,649
POV Characters: Ashley Seaver, Aaron Hotchner
Spoilers: Spoilers up to Season Six episode 10 (what happens at home).
Summary: There's a serial killer in New York, one who leaves no evidence behind at the crime scene and always seems to be one step ahead of the team investigating the murders. Their best chance seems to lie with the BAU, for whom the case brings back old memories. Written for
casestory.For full warning see masterpost here
New York, 2010
Ashley had somehow managed to make it back to her apartment the night before, stumbling through the door and stripping out of her clothes as soon as it shut behind her. Her coat, once she’d emptied the pockets out onto the coffee table, had been dumped in the bin.
The blood might come out, but she’d never forget it’d been there. She hadn’t liked that coat anyway.
Mellie hadn’t said a word, she’d just turned on the shower and left Ashley to it, making her a mug of tea while she waited. Under different circumstances, Ashley would have greeted her girlfriend more appropriately, but all she’d known at that moment was she wanted to be clean.
Ashley shuddered as she stood in the elevator, watching the numbers count up to the main floor. She was wearing one of Mellie’s jackets, which was a little looser than any of her own, but the familiar smell of Mellie’s favourite perfume was a comfort.
Ashley stepped out as soon the elevator doors opened, and made a beeline for her desk, she offered Donavon a weak smile before heading to the break room to make herself a cup of tea. It was still early enough that the only people in were those with urgent, on-going cases.
“Daire’s called in the BAU,” Donavon informed her when she got back to her desk, making it sound casual, even as he watched to see how she reacted to the news, “after last night’s mess, she put her foot down. Took complete control of the investigation and said it was time to admit that we need some help.”
Ashley’s eyes widened. She’d been lucky so far, or at least that’s what she’d always been told, that she hadn’t bumped into any of the BAU teams. The BAU were the ones who got called in on the cases that were complicated. That was the word her old boss had used, complicated. Most people seemed to think the BAU only investigated when people died weird, but that wasn’t true. They profiled whoever they were asked to profile, provided there had been a crime committed. It wasn’t something many people knew about though; the idea of a profile for a white collar criminal was nowhere near as exciting as a murderer. It didn’t make good news; unless the guy was especially media friendly.
At least Donavon had waited until she’d put her mug down before telling her. She’d already had to mop up spilt tea once this month; she didn’t really want to have to do it again. He could have waited till she’d sat down as well, but he rarely did.
“Do,” Ashley hesitated, trying not to sound anything but curious. She forced herself to take a deep breath before she looked up, meeting Donavon’s gaze, “Do you know which team is coming?”
Donavon frowned and Ashley fought not to react; apparently it didn’t take a profiler to know she was uneasy.
“I’ve heard a lot about them, they’re like a myth.” Ashley added, trying for her best reassuring smile, and ignoring the look that Donavon gave her in return.
“I guess they are, especially around here, after what happened the last time Hotchner’s team was here. Hell, anytime Hotchner’s team is in New York it’s bad.” Donavon shook his head, before taking a healthy swallow of coffee.
“How many times have they been here?” Ashley knew about the last time, more because it was part and parcel of the office gossip about Daire, than because anyone was interested in talking about the BAU. Daire hadn’t been the first choice to replace Joyner, or even the second, if rumour was to be believed. Ashley honestly didn’t know how she would feel in Daire’s position, especially now that the first choice for her job was coming to town to help her on a case.
“A good few, it’s not like it’s a surprise that the BAU comes out here a lot, it’s just that recently it always seems to be Hotchner’s team.” Donavon made a face as he reached the last dregs of coffee in his mug, “You know what’s worse about it these days?”
Derek Morgan, Ashley thought, though she doubted Donavon was thinking the same thing. He liked his superiors to have thick skins, she’d lived through enough of his rants on incompetent, jelly legged higher ups often enough to know that. He probably expected Daire to verbally beat Derek Morgan down at the first opportunity. “Not a clue.”
Donavon rolled his eyes, leaning sideways to place his mug on top of the pile of paperwork that was his desk, “David Rossi.”
It took a moment for Ashley to remember how to breathe, and she was insanely thankful that she hadn’t had a mouthful of tea. Spitting tea all over your partner was always embarrassing.
Donavon grinned, “Yup, that David Rossi.”
Ashley rolled her eyes, letting him think that she was a Rossi fangirl. It was better than the truth.
“His ego isn’t as big as you’d think, apparently, but just you be sure not to fawn over him when he strolls through that door. He’s here to do the same job as me and you, not to sign any books.” Donavon picked his mug back up and brandished it at Ashley, and she nodded dutifully, grinning as he muttered something about respect under his breath as he moved towards the coffee pot.
Ashley sagged a little once he was out of sight, leaning back against the wall and trying to remember the names of Hotchner’s other team members. There’s Hotchner, Morgan, and Rossi, and she thinks there’s another man and two women. The names had probably been mentioned by someone, at some point, but it was Hotchner and Morgan who had been the focus of the stories about the last time the BAU had come to town.
Ashley straightened as the door to Daire’s office opened, moving away from the wall and towards her desk. It was neater than Donavon’s, but she was fairly sure it was because she had less paperwork than he did, and she didn’t have many personal items. His desk had a collection of photos of his family, his pets and a number of random toys. She’d been addicted to his various kinetic toys, especially the acrobat, for the entirety of her second week in New York.
Ashley was fairly sure that they got along as well as they did because she was just as messy as him, and she didn’t do skirts. Or absurdly high heels. Often.
Ashley made it to her desk just as Daire drew level, and she couldn’t help but tense. Constantly wishing to be the perfect employee was one of the more annoying side effects of having a crush on her boss. There were days when she was almost afraid to leave her desk to use the restroom for fear that Daire might see her desk empty.
“They’re on their way up.” There was nothing in Daire’s voice to suggest that she felt anything, positive or negative about the BAU’s arrival, and Ashley couldn’t really see anything in her expression either.
“OK.” Ashley managed not to wince, somehow, after the word escaped her mouth. She hadn’t actually needed to say anything, and she was sure she could have thought of something better to say than that. And she really, really needed to stop second guessing every single interaction she had with her boss.
For her part, Daire’s expression remained unchanged as she moved to take up the position Ashley had vacated, drumming her fingers against the wall and studiously not looking in the direction of the entrance to the bullpen.
Apparently Ashley wasn’t the only one nervous about the impending arrivals. Through Ashley doubted that either of Daire’s parents were serial killers, or that she’d had any kind of interaction with the BAU as a child, it was more likely that she was just impatient to get moving on the case.
Daraca MacTaggart wasn’t, after all, known for having an abundance of patience. That was one of the reasons that she and Donavon got along so well, which wasn’t, Ashley knew, necessarily a good thing.
Donavon returned from his coffee run, with two extra mugs, silently handing one to Daire and the other to Ashley before he settled with his own. The smell of vanilla was almost overwhelming, and Ashley mentally added that to her list of cons. She couldn’t stand the smell of vanilla.
“They on their way up?” Donavon questioned idly, one hand hunting through his desk drawer for his stash of cookies.
Daire nodded, turning a little so that her attention was fixed on him, but with the entrance still visible out of the corner of her eye. They were taking their time. Ashley took a moment to wonder if they had a thing for dramatic entrances and were waiting for the perfect moment to walk through the door, long overcoats swirling around their legs, heads held high.
It would certainly match the view a lot of people had of them.
She’d just taken her first, rather ginger, sip of her coffee, when the doors opened, and the seven BAU agents stepped through. She waited, holding herself out of the way, as Daire leaned forward to put down her mug before doing the same herself. Donavon dropped his cookies back into his drawer before he lowered his mug to the desk, giving Daire time to approach the agents first, before he stood and followed. Ashley trailed behind him; she knew her place in the hierarchy.
The only reason she was even getting to work directly with the BAU was she was Donavon’s partner, and he was the most senior agent in the office, which meant he got all the major violent crimes cases.
The younger of the two women, a youthful blonde, stepped forward, taking up position next to the dark haired, solemn man, who looked vaguely familiar, though Ashley wasn’t sure why.
“Jennifer Jareau,” the woman introduced herself, before she gestured to the man beside her, “these are SSA’s Hotchner,” then the greying man on Hotchner’s other side, who didn’t really need an introduction, “Rossi, Morgan,” Morgan stood behind Hotchner, his dark face unreadable, “Prentiss,” the brunette standing next to Morgan, who offered them all a brief smile, “and Doctor Reid.” Ashley eyed the young man. He looked younger than most of the doctors she knew, but she’d heard enough about Spencer Reid to not question it. How she’d forgotten that he was a member of Hotchner’s team, she wasn’t sure. Memories were tricky things.
Daire shook Jareau’s hand, “SSA MacTaggart, these are SSA Donavon, and SA Seaver.”
Ashley offered them a faint smile, while Donavon shook hands with each of them in turn. Rossi didn’t recognise her, she could tell, but that wasn’t a surprise. It had been a long time, and he’d worked a lot of cases. Maybe if she was one of the victims he’d saved he would have remembered her. It doesn’t matter, she reminds herself, as Daire gives them a brief rundown of the situation. She doesn’t care that he doesn’t remember her.
If she’d wanted to be remembered as the daughter of a serial killer, she wouldn’t have changed her surname.
“We’d like to visit the crime scenes.” Hotchner spoke up for the first time, drawing Ashley’s attention. His voice was defiantly familiar, but she couldn’t place where they’d met, and that was going to bother her for a while.
“Of course, Seaver and Donavon can accompany your people, they know the case.”
Hotchner nodded, “Good. Morgan, Reid, go to the latest crime scene with Agent Seaver, Rossi, Prentiss, the third with Agent Donavon,” The agents all nodded their understanding, while Ashley cursed mentally, why couldn’t they go en masse to each crime scene? “Is there somewhere we can set up?”
Daire nodded, her best professional smile in place, even as she gave Ashley and Donavon her best ‘play nice’ glare. She knew them both far too well, and Ashley was fairly sure that Daire was happy they had been split up. It meant that Donavon would play stoic experienced agent, while Ashley ended up being the wet behind the ears rookie, too unsure to offer any comments.
Ashley hated being the rookie. It didn’t matter that was exactly what she was when it came to murder scenes, she didn’t like it. It was one of the reasons she’d taken to spending time on the firing range.
White collar didn’t see much need to actually use their guns, and she’d spent the vast majority of her time in the office. Violent crimes, on the other hand, tended to use their guns, or at least brandish them around a lot more. Plus, one of the homicide cops had actually laughed at her the one time she’d pulled her gun. It really sucked when people found your inexperience amusing.
Especially when they started a pool.
“SA Seaver.” Morgan pulled a set of SUV keys out of his pocket, before motioning towards the door.
Ashley managed a smile, ignoring the tone of voice he’d used; she’d been paying attention. She’d just been waiting for them to say they were ready. “Lead on.”
Morgan gave her one last look before he turned on his heel and led the way out of the bullpen. Reid, for his part, offered Ashley what she guessed was meant to be a reassuring smile. It didn’t really work; she knew all too well what was coming.
Agent Morgan’s driving was better than Donavon’s, Ashley had to give him that much credit, but he clearly wasn’t used to New York traffic. Doctor Reid had suggested a few alternate routes to the scene, listing off statistics, but Morgan had made it clear he wasn’t interested.
Ashley couldn’t help but wonder how many people had misread the men’s relationship over the years. Their banter didn’t always sound friendly, especially when Morgan started calling Reid kid, and telling him to stop talking. If it weren’t for the affectionate undertone to the words, and a faint smile Morgan directed at Reid, she might have thought they didn’t get along.
Ashley trailed after the two men as they walked down the sidewalk to the alleyway where Madison Keller’s body had been found, pulling her coat a little tighter around herself. It wasn’t raining, though the ground was still wet and the air cool, but that didn’t matter. Ashley could still remember what it was like, when she’d first come around the corner and into the alleyway.
She would always recognise the smell of blood, and other things, mingled with rain and trash.
Morgan flipped open the file in his hands as they came to a stop a few feet into the alleyway, a steady flow of people continuing on past down the sidewalk, none of them pausing for more than a moment as they glanced sideways. Ashley doubted that many of them knew why there were three people standing in the alleyway; they probably didn’t remember where Madison Keller’s body was found, if they’d even noticed any of the facts when they’d read the front page.
People always remembered that someone had been murdered, and how, but they rarely remembered the name. They might remember it was a black prostitute, or a white shop girl, might remember a vague area where the body had been found within, but they rarely remembered the names. Unless it was a rich kid whose parents had too much money for their child to become another forgotten victim.
Ashley stood to one side, watching as Morgan walked the scene, exchanging a few comments with Reid before he turned to look at Ashley, waving the file in her direction as he did. “The body was here?” Morgan motioned towards the trash bin.
Ashley nodded, shifting her weight a little, “From the street all you could see was her legs, sticking out into the alley.”
Reid was frowning, and Ashley hoped it wasn’t because of anything she’d said. Not that it could be, considering the fact that all she’d done was confirm what the report would have already told them.
“Like the body was deliberately hidden?” it was Reid’s turn to ask a question apparently.
“Well, you could see it from any of these windows,” Ashley motioned to the buildings around them, “and,” she hesitated, trying to think of words to adequately cover what she’d seen, “the killer, they seem to like, it wasn’t just her legs you could see.”
Morgan flipped through the file, “You mean the way the unsub mutilated the body?”
Ashley swallowed hard before she nodded, pulling her coat tighter still, “Even with the rain, you could see, it was hard to tell what though, until you got close, you would have had to step into the alley to know what it was you were seeing.” It sounded better, when she wasn’t describing it from her own perspective, and she didn’t want to throw up so badly anymore.
Both profilers were watching her, and she had to fight the urge to turn away, or shift under the intensity of it. She had a right to be uncomfortable, to not want to remember what she’d seen. It was bad enough having to look at the crime scene photos back at the office.
They had to have felt the same, once, although maybe not for a while; she didn’t want to think that they’d never been bothered by the crime scenes. She could understand getting used to them, building up a skin, or armour, or whatever you wanted to call it, but she didn’t think she’d ever understand a person who had never been bothered.
Maybe they would. It was a part of their job after all.
“The unsub mutilated the body with a purpose,” Reid commented, finally looking away from Ashley, he moved around the trash bin, stopping once he was on the other side. He was standing almost exactly where the body had lain.
“We’d guessed that already, from the way the unsub posed her,” Morgan agreed.
“You mean her hair?” Ashley asked without thinking, a blush rising on her cheeks as they both turned to look at her again. She wasn’t supposed to be asking questions, she was supposed to be helping them, providing any extra information they wanted, if she could.
A tiny smile touched Morgan’s lips before he turned back to Reid and Ashley relaxed.
“We’re using the crime scene as a witness,” Reid informed her, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little, “in most cases the victim is the most important witness, but when the victim of a crime is dead, we have to use the crime scene. We’re looking at the non-physical factors.”
Ashley frowned, “Non-physical factors?”
Reid nodded, smiling, “When we say non-physical factors, we tend to mean behaviour, or at least the signifiers of behaviour that are present in the crime scene. Did the unsub bring the weapon with them, did they have a plan, that kind of thing. And it isn’t just because this particular case is somewhat lacking in physical evidence. We do the same thing at every crime scene we visit. A lot of the time it’s the non-physical evidence that helps the most in developing a profile. The crime scene photos help, but we learn more from actually seeing the scene. There are things that aren’t always included in the photos, or there are aspects that get overlooked.”
Ashley nodded along, more than a little daunted in the face of the mini lecture. She hadn’t ever really considered just what profiling entailed, but she’d never really been interested in stuff like that, had avoided it as much as she could.
It didn’t look like she was going to get to avoid it anymore. Not if she was around Reid, he seemed to delight in sharing his considerable knowledge, and she was fairly sure she had somehow managed to give him the impression she’d enjoyed it.
It had been interesting; she just hadn’t really taken it all in. She kept seeing Madison’s body, each example he’d given making the memory just a little more present. She really needed to work on not letting herself get eaten up by this case.
Morgan had closed the file at some point during Doctor Reid’s lecture, and his expression had shifted from sombre to mildly amused. Obviously it wasn’t unusual for Reid to take an opportunity to lecture on a subject, but judging from the Morgan’s expression, Ashley had the feeling she was one of the few people not to interrupt him mid flow.
Which was just great; they had to have a list of things that showed just how green she was. All she could do was hope that they wouldn’t hold it against her.
“All right,” Morgan moved towards the entrance to the alley, motioning for Ashley to follow him, “the victim was walking past the alley when the unsub got the jump on her?”
Ashley nodded, “We could see that much on the camera footage. Her family told us she walked this way every night, as part of her normal route home.”
“So, she had a routine, and the unsub knew this was a good place to hide out and wait for her,” Morgan motioned Ashley out onto the street, and she hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder to Reid, eyes wide. He didn’t seem worried, at all. “Hey.” Ashley turned back to Morgan, but stayed where she was, “It’s ok, I just want to get a feel for how this all went down.”
“You mean you want me to play the victim?” It might not be the best wording for it, but that was what he was asking.
Morgan nodded, holding his hands up, “I swear, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Ashley sighed, and rolled her eyes before walking out past him and onto the sidewalk, “You’ve been in the alley for about ten minutes when I walk past.” She walked the exact line Madison had in the footage she’d watched, keeping her gaze forward, not looking into the alley. The poor woman hadn’t seen her killer coming.
“Then I step out behind you, and pull you into the alley,” Morgan said, giving her warning before he stepped up behind her and slipped an arm around her neck, like their unsub had, his other hand closing gently around her upper arm, which he used to pull her with him back into the alley and out of sight of the camera.
“You struggle, but you can’t get away, somehow I manage to get you to where you want to without anyone hearing anything.” Morgan let go of Ashley as they drew level with the trash bin.
“According to the ME report the victims were all strangled, but it wasn’t the cause of death,” Reid commented.
“And if there’s something around your neck, it’s hard to make all that much noise,” Morgan shook his head, staying silent for a moment as he looked around the alleyway again, “So, the unsub strangles the victim, stopping them from struggling or crying out, then kills them with the knife, and poses the body.”
He moved, kneeling by the trash bin, next to where the body had been, glancing over his shoulder towards the street, “If anyone had looked down here, they would have seen the unsub.”
Ashley shook her head, pointing up at the light on the side of building, “It doesn’t work. The only light would have been from the street.”
Morgan sighed, looking down at the ground, “So, once the unsub had her, they could take their time, provided no one came down the alley.”
Ashley winced, tugging on her coat again. If there was one thing that bothered her about this case, it was the time that the killer, the unsub, had taken with each of their victims. They’d all died slowly, and in a lot of pain.
“You know,” Morgan frowned as he straightened up, turning to Reid, “there’s something about this case.”
“There are similarities to a few other cases,” Reid offered, bouncing a little. Ashley had a feeling that he could probably list all of the cases it was like, and why, in vivid detail.
“We should head back to the office.” Morgan commented, cutting off any further comments that Reid might have made. Ashley followed them as they made their way back to the SUV and silently climbed into the back seat.
She wondered idly, as they drove back to the field office, whether Donavon had had a similar experience at the other crime scene, or if he’d just stood by and watched, speaking only when spoken to.
She doubted she would get a chance to ask.
-
Mountrail County, North Dakota, 1996
The Mountrail County Sheriff’s Department was about what Aaron had expected it to be; small and very rural. He could feel the stares of the locals as they climbed out of their SUVs, and he wondered how they were feeling.
It had been a long drive, broken by a night spent in a tiny motel in the middle of nowhere, and he’d traded off driving with Rossi every so often. For most of the drive they’d been travelling through places he’d never seen before; he just wished it had been for a nicer reason. You didn’t get to sightsee while investigating a serial killer.
He’d read through the files during the drive, whenever he hadn’t been behind the wheel, and what little detail there was hadn’t been pleasant. Almost all of the victims were from Mountrail County, which covered a fairly big area, with a lot of green space between towns, and worse, none of them had been high risk. No runaways or prostitutes, and none under twenty-five.
The sheriff, Andrew Hawkes, a tall, heavy built grey-haired man, greeted them, his expression grim. Nodding to each of them as Rossi introduced them. “It’s good to have you here; I know we should have called you in sooner,” his gaze shifted to Rossi for a moment, “but in all honestly we’d all been hoping that it was just coincidence.”
Aaron winced; they hadn’t called in any help because of wishful thinking. It had probably been easier saying that when it had just been one victim a year, reasoning that it couldn’t be one of the locals, it had to be an outsider, someone passing by. Three deaths in one year, spread out across the seasons, couldn’t be dismissed so easily.
“The eighth victim, Veronica Kemp, she was my first murder, my first year as Sheriff,” Hawkes shook his head, sighing, “No one told me there’d been more with the same MO; I didn’t even think to look until they called in Audrey’s body.”
“Audrey Taylor?” Rossi asked, frowning.
Hawkes nodded, “Yeah, she was the tenth, she’d been missing a week when they found her. Three women, killed the same way, I figured it had to be the same guy. I’ve spent the last few years trying my hardest to catch this son of a bitch, but he leaves so little behind. There’s almost nothing to work with, and all anyone can say is they don’t know anyone who’d be capable of something like this.”
Hawkes shook his head, before turning, motioning for them to follow him into the station. “Best we continue this inside.”
Rossi and Cole lead the way, and Aaron let the others go ahead of him, gaining a knowing look from Nancy. She was always telling him his mother should be proud, managing to raise him to have good manners. Half of the agents in the office seemed to forget they had ever had any manners at all.
The inside of the Sheriff’s station was bigger than Aaron had expected, considering its outside appearance, and there were a number of deputies milling around; some actually working, others clearly more interested in watching the feds. Hawkes lead them through the bullpen and into a side room, which was just big enough to hold a conference table and chairs, as well as the case boards that took up one side of the room, covering the wall.
Aaron closed the door to the room, ignoring the looks he received from two of the deputies. If the sheriff had wanted them to hear what happened, he would have asked them to join the meeting.
“In all honesty,” Hawkes picked back up where he’d left off, “I never really thought to call you in. I’ve been in contact with NDBI, but with the lack of evidence they’ve left it to us. I’ve been sending whatever evidence we’ve had out to them, and they’ve lent us crime scene people, but that’s been about it.”
Katie perched on the edge of the conference table, “So what made you call us now?”
“My wife,” Hawkes shrugged, “she attends these lectures from time to time, at Georgetown, takes a whole week off to herself. The last one she attended was one of Jason Gideon’s. When I got the call the other night, first thing she said to me was ‘if it’s another woman murdered, you’d best call the feds’.”
“Smart woman.” Rossi commented, drawing a smile from Hawkes.
“That she is.” Hawkes waited a beat before he spoke again, addressing Rossi, “So, how do you want to do this?”
Rossi paused, glancing to Katie, who shrugged, clearly happy to let him run the show. “If you could have a deputy take me and Hotchner out to the last crime scene, Cole and the others will start on interviewing the families, if that’s all right with you?”
Hawkes nodded, “Deputy Campbell can take you out there, he was the first on scene when they found her. I’ve got Imogen Jordan’s husband coming in an hour, I figured you’d want to talk to him. It still hasn’t sunk in, he spent the last month certain that she’d just gone to visit her sister. He’s the one that ID’d the body, but he still doesn’t really believe it. It was the same with a few of the other families.”
Aaron followed Rossi and Hawkes as they left the little conference room, ignoring the look that Hamilton threw him. Deputy Campbell turned out to be one of the people who had been working when they’d entered, as well as looking to be the youngest of the deputies. Campbell led the way outside to his patrol car. Aaron hesitated for a moment before climbing in the back, knowing that it would mean that one of the others would have to let him out. The only upside was, unlike a lot of the patrol cars Aaron had seen, the back of this one was clean and didn’t smell unpleasant.
Rossi opened the door for Aaron when they reached the crime scene, making a show of it despite the bemused look it drew from Campbell. The crime scene wasn’t too far from the station, on the outskirts of Ross, but Aaron had been very aware of the open countryside as they’d driven between Stanley and Ross.
There was a line of crime scene tape, marking off a corner of the woodland, close enough to the houses that it could be seen, but far enough away that it wasn’t clearly visible. At night anyone who happened to be in the woods would be almost totally invisible. Aaron sighed, glancing back down the road, remembering the bus stop he’d caught sight of as they’d passed.
Campbell motioned towards the very edge of the trees. The crime scene tape reached a few yards in before it stopped, circling back around to the road. “She was there, just into the trees, once I knew she was there, I could see her, but,” he stopped shaking his head, looking like he wanted to throw up. Aaron took a little step to one side. He liked his shoes more than he wanted to offer the young deputy any comfort. The man was lucky, once this unsub was caught it was likely he’d never see another dead body again.
Rossi patted Campbell on the arm, motioning back to the patrol car, holding up the file that he’d brought with him, “It’s ok kid, we’ve got it for now.”
Campbell nodded quickly, turned and hurried back to the car.
Rossi watched him go before he turned to Aaron, with a smile, “How many crime scene have you profiled so far?”
“Three,” Aaron answered. It wasn’t many, but it was more than he’d expected. There hadn’t been many cases that had been deemed worthy of the presence of more than one profiler, and even fewer that had been considered suitable for training. He’d seen the aftermath of a fire, an abduction site, and a dump site. There hadn’t been any dead bodies, but Aaron had seen enough of those already. He’d killed a good few people himself, seen death up close and personal; such was the hand dealt to a member of SWAT.
Rossi frowned, “We’ll have to see what we can do about changing that.” He flipped open the file, pulling the photos to the front before motioning for Aaron to follow him under the tape and closer to where the body had been found.
Aaron glanced back again, to see if he could still see the bus stop, “There’s a bus stop down the road.” He pointed it out to the other man, not sure if he’d seen it as they’d passed.
Rossi nodded, “There’s nothing in the file to say, but we’ll see if the family can confirm that she’d been using a bus. There’s no mention of her having taken a car, so it would make sense.”
Aaron eyed the photos before taking in the scene, imagining it complete with body. There wasn’t anything, no signs of disturbance that looked like it predated the crime scene techs, but it had been a week since the victim had been killed. Any signs the unsub might have left behind were long gone. Aaron sighed, at the other crime scenes he’d at least felt like he’d gained something from visiting them, now he just felt more frustrated.
He glanced to Rossi, watching as the other man noted something down in his notebook in blue pen, having tucked the case file under his arm. He waited for a moment, to see if Rossi was going to offer any comments, before he spoke up, “There’s nothing here.”
Rossi quirked an eyebrow, finally looking up from his notebook, “So, you think the unsub dragged her over here, kicking and screaming, and no one noticed a thing?”
“There were ligature marks around her neck, I don’t think she could have screamed, even if she wanted to.” Aaron pointed out, glancing back towards the houses. Noise would probably carry out here at night, but if they were asleep, or watching TV or something, they wouldn’t hear anything. Even if she could have screamed, they might not have heard, or even known what it was. He wondered if the sheriff had canvassed the area.
“So,” Aaron wondered if Rossi was going to start every sentence with that word, “you figure the unsub grabbed her, strangled her to subdue her, then carried her over here where they were less likely to be seen?”
Aaron nodded, moving so he was standing next to the dip in the snow and turning to face the road. The trees obscured the view to his left, but he had a clear view of the road. The ground sloped down to the road. If it had been light when the unsub had killed Imogen, someone would have seen something. “It had to have been dark, there’s too clear a view of this place when it’s light.”
Rossi smiled, nodding, “So,” Aaron managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes, “he attacks when it’s dark. Lays in wait somewhere until she’s got her back to him, and then catches her from behind.”
“It fits the evidence we’ve got.” Aaron said, reaching out to take the case file from Rossi. They looked over the photos for a little longer, but there’s nothing else. The body was arranged with purpose, but they can’t get much from the photos. If they had seen the body in situ, they might have been able to get something more.
Rossi reclaimed the file, making a final note before slipping his notepad and pen back into his pocket. “Time to head back to the station, see if anything they’ve learned from the husband fits what we’ve got.”
Aaron didn’t bother to point out that what they had really wasn’t much more than they’d started out with. He wasn’t even sure it would help narrow down the profile all that much.
Ben was the only one in the conference room when they made it back to the station, a pile of files scattered over the table in front of him. Aaron had caught sight of Nancy at one of the desks in the bullpen, phone to her ear and a notepad in front of her. He guessed Katie and Hamilton were still interviewing.
“Anything interesting?” Rossi questioned, dropping his file onto the table.
Ben shook his head, “There’s a lot to go through, but I haven’t found anything yet.”
Aaron moved forward a little, close enough that he could read the covers of some of the files. They looked like financial records, which meant that Ben was likely looking for any signs of connections between the victims. It was something that could be done on computer Aaron guessed, but there were still a lot of people who preferred to do things the old fashioned way; he wouldn’t be surprises if some of the financial records only existed in paper form. There was also the fact it didn’t look like the Mountrail County Sheriff’s Department had many computers.
“Keep at it.” Rossi ordered and Ben nodded, though Aaron knew it was more out of habit than anything. The BAU researchers all knew what they were doing, better than some of the profilers, and Ben had worked with Rossi almost as much as Nancy had.
Rossi eyed the other files on the table for a moment before sorting them into piles and pushing one towards Aaron, “Go see Nancy, make sure that she hasn’t called any of these people yet, then start calling. Get as much information about the victim’s routines as possible.”
Aaron nodded, taking the pile from Rossi, and then searched out his own notes on the crime scenes for a reference point. Phone interviews were always interesting, but they saved time. He would make notes anyway, if any of them sounded like they might be holding back he could always ask them to come in for a more official interview.
He glanced at the clock, it was almost four in the afternoon, and with no fresh crime scene, Aaron suspected Rossi would order them to back to the motel before it got too late. There came a time when people wouldn’t be willing to answer their phones, let alone answer questions about a dead loved one.
Aaron had managed to speak to five people before Rossi had called it a day, gathered the team together and headed for the motel, which had turned out to be nicer than Aaron had expected. They’d eaten a quick meal together before they’d split up, and the first thing Aaron had done was call Haley.
It was an agreement they’d put in place when he’d first taken the position, knowing that at some point he was going to be travelling. He would call in the morning and the evening, fitting in other calls if he could, though he had to keep Haley’s work schedule in mind. They didn’t always talk for long, sometimes they barely spoke, but they both found it reassuring, and Haley didn’t have to worry about him.
He’d listened patiently as she’d detailed the events of her day, leaning back against the door of his room and letting the sound of her voice wash over him. He was fairly sure that she hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t really taken in anything she’d said.
Aaron had been up early, but he’d never managed to sleep past six anyway, not for years, and it gave him some time to look the files over again. He had a list of the notable aspects of each crime scene, from what he could see in the photos. He’d tried to profile the same way he had with all of his files, back in the bunker, but it took more effort to get beyond the fact there was so little physical evidence.
Aaron sighed, stabbing at a strange piece of scrambled egg. The diner next to the motel offered better food than some of the places Haley had taken him, and it was a whole lot cheaper.
“Did the egg do something to offend you?”
Aaron jumped, narrowly avoiding dropping his fork. He hadn’t heard Rossi approach, lost in thought as he’d been.
Rossi grinned, dropping into one of the chairs on the other side of the table and nodding to the waitress. He ordered quickly, thanking the woman as she handed him a mug of coffee. “It’s going to be another long day,” he commented before taking a long drink of his coffee and slumping in his chair a little. Aaron was more aware than ever of the weight of Rossi’s gaze.
“Hawkes is right, there’s really not much evidence.” Aaron commented, not really feeling like beating around the bush. They were hunting someone who had killed eighteen woman and hadn’t left much behind for them to work with.
It would have been nice to have an easier case for his first field investigation of a serial killer, even if there was a voice in the back of his head telling him that an easier case would have meant more victims and a much shorter amount of time.
Rossi shrugged, “There are more cases like this than people would like you to think. It’s like Jack the Ripper, guy barely left a shred of evidence, never got caught. The thing is, you take that case, you give the details to a profiler, and they’ll give you a profile. Odds are, if Jack the Ripper had gone on his killing spree a hundred years later, he’d’ve been caught.”
“You really think that?”
Rossi frowned, lowering his cup and eying Aaron for a long moment, “You don’t?”
Aaron shrugged, “Is a profile enough?”
Rossi raised an eyebrow, “Enough?”
“Once we have a working profile, and it leads us to a suspect, how do we prove they’re really the killer?” He’d been coming back to that all night; he’d lost cases because there hadn’t been enough evidence. It had been different with SWAT, partly because it hadn’t been something he’d needed to worry about, and partly because a lot of the people they’d been called in to take down had committed their crimes in front of witnesses.
Rossi leaned back in his chair a little more, and Aaron couldn’t help but wonder if the suspects, while being interviewed by Rossi, had felt the way he did just now. It wasn’t that he thought Rossi could see into his soul, it was more like Rossi was judging him, poking until he could figure out what made him tick. “We do the best we can.”
It was a better answer than Aaron had expected, more honest, more true. He knows if he were to ask Gideon, or Ryan, they’d tell him the profile was enough, but Aaron can list any number of cases where it wasn’t.
And then there are the cases where the profile was wrong. Or at least, if not wrong, had been used wrong. He knows, he’s seen, comparisons between the profile and the suspect who was finally caught, but he’s seen the original working as well. Profiling is a tool, and like any tool, it’s the way it’s used that’s important.
“You know, I might have to get in on that pool.” Rossi said.
“Which one?”
Rossi snorted, “The one about your shelf life.”
Aaron rolled his eyes; he was surprised that Rossi hadn’t already made a bet. “I’m not saying I don’t believe in what we do, it’s just…” Aaron stopped, not really sure how to put what he was feeling into words. He’d spent too long staring at pictures of murdered women the night before.
“You know, there’s a reason I always take a break, step back from the case,” Rossi was deliberately keeping his tone casual, but Aaron could hear the undertone of disapproval, “this job is hard, Hotchner. We spend so much time looking at some of the worst things imaginable, and getting into the heads of the people reasonable for them. It’s not pretty, but you’ve got to find a way to take a step back.”
Aaron didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t agree, not really, he didn’t work the way Rossi seemed to. He couldn’t take a step back, not completely, not while there was still work he could be doing. He could close himself off, look at it all objectively, but taking a break always seemed a little too much like failure. He wanted to know what it was that had made the unsub pick these women; wanted to find the connection that would give them some kind of evidence to support the profile they were building.
Rossi didn’t press him after that, either because he’d already made up his mind, or because he’d decided Aaron was a lost cause, Aaron wasn’t really sure.
Rossi hummed, drinking the last of his coffee and glancing at his watch, “Best finish up and head to the station.”
-
Part Three - Progress
