Criminal Minds/Supernatural Fic: The Time Has Come to Be Gone 1/5
Title: The Time Has Come to be Gone
Author: Jujuberry136
Rating: PG-13/ FRT
Warnings: language, violence
Pairing: none (gen)
Word Count: 28,949
Summary: When Aaron Hotchner stepped into the interrogation room to interview one of the FBI’s most wanted unexpectedly apprehended earlier in the afternoon, he never thought the evening would end with bloodshed and rock references. Crossover with Supernatural.
Notes: Spoilers through Season 4 of Criminal Minds and through Season 4 of Supernatural. Title from the Led Zeppelin song “Ramble On.” Special thanks to ambrosia4all for the AWESOME beta, Wikipedia, Supernatural.wikia.com, and horrornews.com for Supernatural transcripts. Furthermore, this fic owes a debt of inspiration to Kikkimax’s “Defect” and PaBurke’s “Hunters and Prey.”
Disclaimer: Criminal Minds belongs to Ed Bernero, Supernatural to Eric Kripke. Dialogue used from “The Usual Suspects” written by Cathryn Humphris (original airdate 9/9/2006 on the CW)
"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness." Joseph Conrad
Aaron Hotchner was supposed to be finishing his paperwork at the moment. He should have been drafting his second letter of appeal to Agent Strauss to be cleared for field operations. He should have been ignoring yet another argument between Prentiss and Reid over their favorite incarnation of some doctor on a BBC show (he was not the only one to be studiously avoiding asking either agent for clarification for fear of explanation). He should have been on a plane leaving Missouri a small speck in the jet’s window.
Instead he was outside the Jackson Police station not 5 hours after they left. The JPD had finally charged Henry Davis, who had confessed after 3 hours of intense interrogation, with the deaths of three nurses over the course of the past year. Davis had wired each woman’s lightning rod into its fuse box-when their houses were struck the boxes overloaded and burnt the house down. Davis confessed, in his oddly staccato voice, to having tampered with the doors and windows to lock the women into their homes before thunderstorms to ensure they burnt alive. Hotch made a mental note to specifically praise Morgan’s incendiary analysis in his final report-it was due to his vigilance at each scene that the link between the lightning rod and the fuse boxes had been discovered.
JJ interrupted his ruminations, with a quiet “Are we going to go in, sir?” She was standing outside the rented SUV but hadn’t yet closed the door. Looking at his rumpled media liaison, Hotch felt another pang of regret; he supposed JJ had been anticipating her own return to Henry.
Hotch looked down at his buckled safety belt with some surprise, nodding slowly, and opened the door. Rossi, Prentiss, Reid, and Morgan were still at the hotel. He had put the team on stand-down, but had a sneaking suspicion they were simply waiting until he was distracted to return to the station. It’s not everyday the BAU successfully caught their unsub and a suspect on the most wanted list.
“Have Garcia pull up all of the files we have on this guy. Tell her to start digging, nothing too deep until we have confirmation of his identity.” JJ nodded and opened her phone while Hotch threaded his way through the crowded desks on the floor to Captain Robert’s office.
Captain Robert didn’t even have the decency to look exhausted-he’d changed his suit at some point, but still exuded the same energy and confidence he’d displayed during the course of the Davis investigation. The police captain grinned wryly at Hotch’s unannounced entry, “Bet you didn’t expect to see us so soon again?”
The captain stood, “He was picked up about an hour ago for hitchhiking on Route 34. Officer Jones was originally going to write him a ticket when he pulled over, but he thought the man looked familiar. Since he was claiming to be looking for the police anyway, we just decided to bring him in. Could have knocked me down with a feather when he passed his own wanted poster on the walk in. We’ve left him in the interview room so far. Called you lot instead of the St. Louis office. No offense, but those guys are some of the biggest-“
Hotch interrupted before the Captain could say anything too impolitic. “So the identification is visual only at this point?”
Captain Robert shook his head, “We’ve taken his fingerprints for confirmation, but the physical description’s a lock. He’s currently claiming to be David St. Hubbins, says he was car jacked and was just trying to wave down a lift into town to get to the police station.”
Captain Robert looked concerned, “When he came in he requested some water. We gave him a cup and a pitcher. So not only does he have those, but as we didn’t want to alert him that his cover was blown we didn’t search him thoroughly.” He sighed heavily, “I’m not comfortable letting an interview take place until we pat him down. His record shows he usually carries a handgun and has shown a preference for knives, so there’s a high chance he’s carrying at least one. How do you want to approach this?”
Hotch paused in front of interview room, glancing inside he could see the tall man had tilted his chair against the wall and appeared to be sleeping, though the set of his shoulders looked too tense for true repose. “Don’t let anyone into the room until we have more information. Once we have more information, I’ll go in-we’ll search him for weapons then. You said on the phone that he’s been calm so far, so let’s hope that continues until we go in. Just in case, I’ll have my technical analyst do a search for Mr. St. Hubbins.”
Seeing Captain Robert nod, Hotch stepped aside and called Garcia.
“Font of wisdom speaking, how can I help you lesser mortal?”
“Garcia I need you to run the name David St. Hubbins, he would have a California Drivers License, supposedly lives in Pomona.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line, “Sir, you want me to investigate David St. Hubbins? Is this for the masters round of Trivial Pursuit? Did Reid finally allow someone to call a lifeline? Oh wait, are you timed like in the show?”
Hotch broke in when he sensed Garcia was ready to breath, “What exactly are you talking about?” For a moment there was complete silence, then a suspicious thump before Garcia began talking, this time more rapidly than before.
“Sir! Oh, um, right on it. Professionally investigating in a Federal Bureau of Investigation sort of way Mr. St. Hubbins. Just a moment, sir.” She paused, “Sorry, it’s just that David St. Hubbins is a character from Spinal Tap. You know, the Christopher Guest movie? About a fictional rock band?” Her voice trailed off and Hotch heard her fingers move across the keyboard rapidly. “Sorry sir, there isn’t any Mr. David St. Hubbins anywhere in Pomona that I can find.”
Hotch looked back into the room and started to examine the suspect more carefully. The man’s clothes were worn, his jean jacket folded carefully on the table. “Garcia, I want you to fax all the files JJ asked you to pull up earlier to the station. I want everything-the official case file, notes, contact information for every witness interviewed on this case. I also want you to find the case report for the explosion that killed the previous supervisory agent.”
“Already done sir, JJ’s been manning the fax since you arrived, sir.”
Hotch closed his phone and walked towards Captain Robert, who had been helping JJ organize the still incoming paperwork. JJ had pulled out the whiteboard the team had used only a few hours ago and started posting pictures and writing dates of suspected killings from the case file. Captain Robert had pulled aside Officer Jones, and the two were deep in conversation.
Seeing the fax continuing to shoot out paperwork, Hotch asked, “JJ, how long has the Bureau been investigating?”
JJ scanned the case file quickly, “Looks like about two years. The case was considered closed because it was assumed the suspect died in the same explosion that killed the lead agent,” she rifled through the pages again. “It says here that Agent Victor Henricksen was assigned the case in 2006 and was killed in action in early 2008 in Colorado. Shortly after Henricksen reported the successful capture of the Winchester brothers, the police station in Mission exploded-killed four police officers, the Sheriff, the office administrator, Deputy Director Steven Groves, Agent Henricksen himself, two field agents, and supposedly both brothers.”
“Apparently at least one of the brothers survived,” Hotch replied drily. He looked over at Captain Robert, who had joined JJ when he saw that Hotch was finished with his phone call. “Captain, I’m not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth, but the Bureau officially closed this case-any idea why his picture’s on the wall?”
Captain Robert pointed over at an uncomfortable looking Officer Jones. The younger office looked towards the ceiling and started to explain, “Well sir, updating the Wanted Board used to be Sammi’s job, but her position was cut in last year’s budget. And, well, we’ve just been too busy since to keep it current.” He shifted his weight a few times before continuing, “Guess it came in pretty handy this time. I doubt I would’ve recognized him if I hadn’t been passing his mug shot everyday for a year and a half.”
Before Hotch could respond, the station’s main door opened and admitted four slightly rumpled looking FBI agents. Hotch suspected JJ of calling the team; the blonde agent’s attention was completely focused on taping pictures to the whiteboard and she was refusing to look at him.
While Reid, Prentiss, and Morgan avoided Hotch’s glare, Rossi merely grinned as he shook Captain Robert’s hand and introduced himself to Officer Jones, who hadn’t been involved in the Davis investigation. “Love what you’ve done with the place,” he remarked, looking around the room slowly.
Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid simply walked up the board JJ had been putting together and started to read, though Reid’s approach could more accurately be termed hobbling. For the first time in his career, Hotch was grateful for the Bureau’s budget crisis-his team had to be sent out, even with two agents technically on restricted duty, because there was no one else. He still wasn’t buying Reid’s story of tearing his ACL while helping Garcia move, but they were sticking to their story. In any case, the youngest member of his team was on crutches for the foreseeable future.
Predictably, Reid finished examining the board first and moved on to the thick ream of paper JJ had faxed to the office. Stealing two chairs, one for him and one to rest his leg, he began summarizing after scanning the first section of suspect history. “Looks like his father was a marine, mother died when he was a child. After that we only have the misdemeanor charges from his late teens of breaking and entering, and another charge of grave desecration in 2001.”
“Henricksen thought the St. Louis murders in 2005 were his first. Looks like he used a knife to torture three women, ultimately killing two of them. The third survived when the police stormed her house-looks like he preferred to use the victims’ homes instead of a new location. Left their bodies out in the open when he was done.” Reid paused, eyes still moving rapidly across the case file.
“No remorse then,” Prentiss commented as she finished her first look at the suspect. “Egomaniac or narcissistic personality disorder? From the few times he’s been held in custody, we can see that he’s condescending-the authorities aren’t in a position to know what’s really going on. Henricksen’s notes definitely support the unsub having an inflated sense of self.”
She started to pace, three steps forward then three steps back. “He works with his younger brother, Henricksen thought the older was the dominant personality. Looks like the younger brother escaped for a few years, went to college. Then his girlfriend dies. The Palo Alto PD ruled the death a result of an accidental fire due to faulty wiring. Younger brother reported that he and his brother had been on a camping trip and came back to the apartment building on fire. They left the day of the funeral.”
“Did Henricksen think the brother had anything to do with the fire?” Rossi asked.
“Neighbors reported that the brothers left to go on a last minute camping trip. According to a friend, they were trying to find their father who had gone out of contact on a hunting trip,” Reid replied softly. “What’s more interesting, however, is that the family seems to have a history with fires-the mother died in 1983 in a house fire, then the girlfriend in 2005, then supposedly both brothers in early 2009.”
“How old was he in 1983?” Rossi asked sharply.
“Looks like he was four,” Morgan replied. “It’s possible he set the 2005 fire and caused the 2009 explosion, but the 1983 fire destroyed the entire house-I’m not sure a kid playing with matches could cause that kind of damage.” He paused and looked up at the whiteboard, frowning slightly. “I want to say he’s a revenge arsonist, but the St. Louis murders complicate things.” He shook his head at the bloody images in front of him.
“You’re right. The fires are probably secondary.” Rossi agreed. “He planned his killings in St. Louis and managed to escape cleanly when he was discovered by the police. He evaded FBI detection for over two years, and faked his death again in 2009. He’s organized, smart, and knows how to stay off the grid when necessary. What do we know about his early life?”
“Garcia’s on it. Henricksen’s notes suggest that while this one may be the dominant personality, he’s most likely a hedonistic thrill killer. If you look at the St. Louis victims, the victims were killed in their homes and by all reports had never met him. Henricksen suggests the younger brother is the planner of the two.” Hotch paused to consider. “At this point, I’m unsure if we should operate under the assumption the brother is alive or not.”
“If we follow from Henricksen’s notes, then it might be safe to assume the brother is dead,” Reid argued. “Without his brother, he’s lost most of his ability to plan ahead. He’s become unstable, probably the reason he thought he could walk into a police station without detection.”
“Now, he’s been sitting in police custody now for about an hour and aside from the occasional deputy asking him for clarification on his supposed mugging, nothing’s happened. He has to know something’s up, what’s the next step?” Hotch asked.
“Maybe he thought enough time had passed he wouldn’t be recognized.” JJ suggested. “What’re the odds that he’d get picked up in a station that hadn’t updated its most wanted board in 18 months?”
Before Reid could answer with the appropriate statistic, Prentiss started to speak. “Even with his diminished planning abilities, I still don’t think this was an accident. Look at this guy’s rap sheet, there’s no way this was a mistake.”
At their looks, she explained further. “From what little we’ve got on his life before 2004, we know that a few things are always constant. The brother, violence, and?” her voice trailed off suggestively. “What’s missing?”
Rossi realized it first, “No car. Even after the Bureau first started investigating they continued to drive the ’67 Chevy.”
Prentiss gave a small grin, “Boys and their toys. If this were truly spontaneous, he’d be furious right now-not cooling his heels in an interrogation room. And that’s with the assumption that Joe Carjacker would be able to overpower him.”
“So are we dealing with an unsub who’s spiraling or one who has he changed his M.O?” Hotch looked at his team. “He’s lost two of his defining characteristics. Rossi, you and I are going to get a feel for his mental state-is he in control? The rest of you, continue to go over the information Garcia sent over and assemble a cohesive profile. Agent Henricksen’s team got us started-let’s get it done.”
“JJ, I want you to get in contact with everyone Henricksen talked to in St. Louis.” Hotch instructed.
Before he could continue, JJ interrupted, “Hotch, it looks like Henricksen also had encounters with the brothers in Milwaukee during an attempted bank robbery, in Green River County in Arkansas where they escaped from prison, and has extensive notes from a local Baltimore investigation into the murders of a husband and wife.”
“Then I want anyone who came in contact with either brother or Agent Henricksen on the phone from all of those cities as well. When you get them on the phone, let me know.” Hotch smiled tightly. He picked up a large cardboard box and walked towards the only interrogation room in the Jackson Police Station.
Rossi caught up to him quickly. Before opening the door, he paused and turned to Hotch and smiled grimly. “Ready to push some buttons Agent Hotchner?”
“Apparently it’s one of Mr. Winchester’s favorite activities. I’m sure we’ll get along swimmingly.”
* * * * * *
Hotch and Rossi entered the interview room, each carrying large boxes which they promptly dumped on the wooden table. The man in the corner didn’t so much as flinch from the noise. Hotch reached into the box and pulled out a thick file folder, “Good afternoon Dean.”
The man opened an eye lazily, “Who?” He gave a half grin, “The name’s David St. Hubbins, that’s H-U-B-B-“
“You’re really going to try this?” Rossi asked. “Let’s just cut the crap. You’re Dean Winchester, born January 4, 1979 in Lawrence, Kansas. Son of Mary and John Winchester, one younger brother Samuel.”
Hotch noticed Winchester try to hide a small wince as Rossi reeled off the facts of his life. Was he worried they knew so much about his life, or was it the reminder of his brother? Looking at their suspect, Hotch could see how he was able to fly under the radar for so long. He was conventionally handsome, tall, and wore the uniform of the average young American-jeans, boots, and a tee shirt. Hotch doubted the three St. Louis victims had the chance to notice the jeans were threadbare and showed signs of repeated repairs. Or that his boots were scuffed and had suspicious stains along the sole.
“Gold star to the G-man,” replied Winchester, his mouth falling into an easy smirk. “But if you can tell me what color underwear I’ve got on, then I’ll really be impressed.”
Before Hotch had the opportunity to respond, Rossi responded. “This is funny? You tortured three women and killed two in St. Louis. What, couldn’t get it up?”
Aaron Hotchner had seen suspects shrug off accusations of impotence, had seen them start swinging, and, in one rare case, start tearing up. All of which helped his team refine their profile. Winchester’s reaction, however, wasn’t encouraging.
He started to laugh.
Winchester’s body was shaking as he pounded his leg emphatically. “Dude, you are hilarious. Your talent is wasted here, have you thought about stand-up?” He wheezed for a few moments before coming under control. He looked up at Rossi curiously. “You honestly think that one day I couldn’t get a stiffie so I decided a spot of murder would be some type of creepy Viagra?”
Hotch gave Rossi a long look and decided to try another track. “Mr. Winchester, why were you in St. Louis in 2005?”
Winchester started playing with the glass the officers had left for him earlier. Hotch made sure to track his hands as he passed it from hand to hand, occasionally tapping rhythmically with his index fingers along the rim. “Look, I went over this before. I didn’t kill those women. The police found the guy who did it-buried him and everything. Apparently he looked a heck of a lot like me. So why not get while the going was good?”
“Without bothering to tell the police you were alive?” asked Rossi skeptically.
Winchester rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, I bet they would have welcomed me with flowers and pie. Look, they found the guy who did it and he’s not around to hurt anybody anymore. Maybe he was my evil twin or something. No real reason to stick around while some donut-obsessed member of St. Louis’ finest tried to wrap his little mind around the fact that two guys can look alike, but one’s not a murdering psychopath.”
Winchester’s fingers had continued to tap along the rim of his water glass during his explanation. Rossi’s eyes widened slightly and asked incredulously, “Are you drumming Led Zeppelin?”
Winchester’s fingers paused and the man grinned at Rossi. “Good song.”
While Rossi attempted to recover from his lapse, Hotch glared at the unrepentant man in front of him. Henricksen’s notes had mentioned how effectively Winchester misdirected conversations, but he had understated how infuriating their suspect could be. “Mr. Winchester, let’s say your evil twin did in fact commit the murders in St. Louis, what’s your explanation for the murders in Baltimore? Did your evil twin commit bank robbery in Milwaukee too?”
“You, on the other hand, not so funny. Bet you think that John Denver is edgy,” Winchester complained, his eyes still bright. “By the way, I can totally hear the air quotes on evil twin. You might want to work on that.”
Before either FBI agent could respond, Winchester looked at them closely then slouched deeply into his chair. “You guys are talking out of your asses right now.”
“Why do you say that Mr. Winchester,” Hotch asked calmly, ignoring his desire to slap the smirk off his suspect’s face with long practice.
“‘Cause there’s no way you’d start by questioning the existence of my evil twin.” Winchester paused briefly, “And just so you know, the whole box with my name on it supposedly full of stuff the FBI’s found out about me trick really isn’t exactly the unknown. You might want to update your routine at some point. Just saying.”
As Winchester lectured, the interrogation room door opened and Morgan leaned in briefly. “Hotch, Rossi, there’s a situation you need to deal with out here.”
When the two agents started walking towards the door, Winchester spoke up. “What, you’re going to leave me alone again?” When neither agent responded, he yelled angrily at their retreating backs, “The least you could do is leave a magazine or something. Even the dentist has US Weekly!”
While Rossi continued into the busy office, Hotch pulled an officer aside to search Winchester. “Do a full search and take anything that could be used as a weapon or escape tool. He’s escaped police and federal custody at least three times, so anything that might be used as a lock pick should be confiscated immediately. When you finish, secure him and post a guard at the door.”
The young woman, Officer Campbell, looked slightly uncomfortable when Hotch finished. “Sir, I can put a man on the door for now, but we don’t have the man power to keep someone there continuously. As it is, I have to go out to talk to the Rangers at the Trail of Tears Park about some recent vandalisms.”
“Just do your best,” Hotch replied. “He’s killed two women that we know of and gotten away with it.” He quickly started back to the office to check in on his team’s progress with Henricksen’s case file.
* * * * * *
Upon his arrival, Hotch noticed the whiteboard had been updated with more pictures and a few basic facts from the bank robbery in Milwaukee as well as the murders in Baltimore. Hotch could see JJ reaching for the blue dry erase marker and realized Garcia had come through on the information on Winchester’s early life.
Morgan had taken over a desk and was talking quietly into the phone. When he saw Hotch, he waved him over. Holding a hand over the phone, he looked up and said quietly, “Hotch, I’ve got Detective Diana Ballard on the phone. She was one of the arresting officers in Baltimore. She says she doesn’t mind talking to us about the case, but wants us to watch the video from her partner’s interrogation first.”
“I think Henricksen has the transcripts from that interview in the case file. Is there any reason why she wants us to watch the video?” Hotch asked.
While Morgan repeated his question to Detective Ballard, Hotch walked over to Reid. The thin man, looking none too respectable in the same cardigan and tie as the day before, had taken over a corner desk and was busy assembling a timeline of the Winchester’s actions.
“How’s it going?” Hotch asked when it appeared Reid hadn’t noticed his arrival.
“The sheer amount of destruction and chaos he’s caused is terrifying,” replied Reid, his hand continuing to write in new information. “But there’s something unsatisfactory about the timeline.” He paused and looked up at Hotch, his forehead wrinkling slightly. “Actually, this case is disconcerting me.”
Before Hotch could ask if Reid wanted off the case or if he wanted to talk about it privately, Morgan called from across the room. “Kid, you’ve seen cases worse than this before. Sometimes people are just evil.”
“It’s not that,” Reid replied, his voice rising slightly as his eyes narrowed. “The crimes I can accept, it’s that the case as a whole doesn’t make sense.”
Before Morgan could reply, most likely with some line about murder not making sense that they’d all heard and said too many times, Hotch called to the rest of the team. “We can safely assume that Winchester’s stable. He was controlled and aware enough to attempt to maintain his alias until pressed with the facts.”
“I’ve sent an officer in to search him. Now that he knows we know who he is, there’s no point in taking additional chances. Though as far as I could tell he’s unarmed.” Rossi nodded his agreement. Hotch continued, “we’re back to the theory that he wants something. Specifically, he wants something from law enforcement.”
“Possibly something from the FBI,” Prentiss mused. “The Davis case got a lot of media attention in the area. Since he was picked up hitchhiking, it’s possible he caught some of the coverage and decided he wanted to talk.”
“But why now?” Reid asked exasperated. He made his way awkwardly to the whiteboard, his crutches punctuating the steady buzz of the station. As he continued to speak, he gestured vaguely with one arm towards the gruesome pictures taped there. “In the past he’s never tried to contact the police. In fact, he’d done everything in his power to avoid coming in contact with law enforcement-fake names, using cash and probably fake credit cards, and case in point, he’s faked his death twice now.”
Prentiss responded heatedly, “But look at their arrest in Green River County! They were arrested for trespassing in the Arkansas Museum of Anthropology-they broke a case and triggered the alarm!”
At Reid’s dubious look, she pressed onwards, “Kind of an amateur move for two people who had previously managed to evade S.W.A.T and then managed to break themselves out of prison. Henricksen theorized that they wanted to be arrested then too-“
Before this could venture too far-Hotch didn’t want a repeat of Reid and Morgan’s bitchfest over the implications of the Zodiac Killer’s cryptograms-Hotch asked loudly, “Let’s go over the facts first, then Henricksen’s theory, and see how it plays out with what we know. Morgan, call Garcia to see what she’s found so far.”
As Morgan moved to dial their resident technical analyst, Officer Campbell quietly reported to Captain Robert, who was sitting off the side watching the BAU work. Hotch wouldn’t be surprised to see an application from the Jackson Police Chief for the next seminar the BAU held in Washington on profiling in local police work. The man had been recalcitrant at the start of the Davis investigation, but their success at inducing a confession had apparently earned the unit a new convert.
Rossi started. “We know he was born in 1979, the eldest son of John and Mary Winchester. Mary was a housewife, John was a marine who served two tours in Vietnam, then came home to work as a mechanic. Dean has a younger brother, Samuel, born in 1983. Mary Winchester died in a house fire a few months after Sam’s birth. After the mother’s death, the father leaves Lawrence, Kansas with both boys.”
Garcia’s voice, tinny from the speakerphone in the office, picked up the narrative. “As far as I can tell, John Winchester hasn’t had a steady job since. He hasn’t paid taxes so no activity on his social security number. He doesn’t have a credit card under his name, and his drivers license expired about 15 years ago.”
“On the upside, I can track the family’s location a bit through the years. While they’re pretty much off the grid for over ten years, I was able to track down some educational records for the two boys once they hit high school. According to his college applications that I found, Sam Winchester claims to have attended six high schools from 1997 to 2001.”
Hotch decidedly didn’t think about how many civil liberties and privacy of information laws had been broken for Garcia to “find” that information.
“Campbell and DeNevi found through that among the 36 murderers and serial murderers they interviewed, 16% of the offenders experienced chronic instability and frequent moving and 47% experienced some home life instability,” Reid added, unable to stop the statistics at the tip of his tongue.
Used to the younger profiler’s tendency, Prentiss acknowledged the statistics with a nod of her head.
Morgan then asked, “Anything of note in the towns we know of while the Winchesters lived there?”
“Il mio bigné squisito scuro, you get a gold star for the day!” the technical analyst replied cheerily. While Reid and Morgan looked confused, Rossi and Prentiss groaned ever so slightly. “I heard that you two! That’s it, yearbook pictures are going viral!”
Hotch interrupted quickly before more threats could be levied. “What’s interesting about the surrounding towns Garcia?”
“I’ve found two cases of unexplained murders from nearby towns that fit in the timeframe that Sam Winchester reported in his college application.”
“Who was killed?” Morgan wanted to know.
“Looks like a man in Portage, Ohio was killed under suspicious circumstances in 1997-the same time the Winchesters were living in Bowling Green, Ohio.”
Reid interrupted quickly, “Dean didn’t graduate until 1998, and he would have been in high school at the time. Were the local PD sure it was a murder?”
“Kiddos, you asked for possible connections in Winchester’s early life-you got one. I called the Portage PD, no one there remembers the case, but the officer I talked to is going to try to find the police report and will fax it over to you ASAP.” Garcia replied briskly. “The other case was a man as well, all I could find online was that he was found dead inside a locked room and authorities were investigating. More info will be sent to you as it’s dug out of decade old storage units. I wouldn’t hold your breath for those files though.”
“Thanks Garcia.” Hotch said as he motioned for Morgan to hang up the phone. “What else do we know?”
“Well, he sure likes his classic rock.” Rossi pointed out ruefully. He turned to the team and explained, “Winchester was drumming a Led Zeppelin song when we were talking to him. It’s a possible tell, so be on the look out for it in the future.”
“His alias today was from a movie Garcia recognized,” Hotch added. “Spinal Tap or something similar.”
“Henricksen had a note that Winchester had a proclivity for using classic rock musicians as aliases,” Reid noted. He looked up at the team, his brow wrinkled, and started to talk. “Henricksen had training and criminology and behavioral profiling; he was working under the theory that Winchester is a hedonistic thrill killer. It fits in St. Louis-Winchester wants to dominate his victim, doesn’t spend too much time with each victim, and none of the victims showed signs of sexual abuse. Though the cause of death was still exsanguination in both sets of victims, the Baltimore victims ultimately died from severed carotid arteries while the St. Louis victims bled out due to numerous knife wounds.”
Noticing the blank looks on his teammates faces, Reid sped up, his words tumbling one after another as if he was afraid he wouldn’t have a chance to finish a thought. “It’s the 2007 bank robbery in Milwaukee that’s bothering me. He’d never exhibited a desire for monetary gratification before, so why rob a bank? At that point he’d already tortured three women in St. Louis and killed two of them and had been apprehended by police in Baltimore. It’s anomalous that he’d evolve to killing then return to lesser offenses.”
“Maybe his brother suggested it,” speculated Prentiss.
Morgan, who had been downloading a digital file of the Winchester interview with the Baltimore PD, spoke up. “Hotch, I’m not sure how much of the Baltimore investigation we should be looking at.” Seeing blank looks all around, Morgan asked, “Did you all miss the section on the investigating officers? Reid?”
While Reid avoided everyone’s disbelieving eyes, Rossi muttered under his breathe about focusing on the Green River County escape.
“I thought you had gotten in contact with Detective Ballard?” Hotch asked confusedly.
“I did, but Detective Ballard didn’t work the case solo. Her partner, Detective Peter Sheridan, was killed in the course of the investigation.” Morgan responded. “He was killed by Detective Ballard. She claims to have found him trying to execute Winchester on the side of the road and shot him in self-defense when he pulled his gun on her.”
“In her IAD statement, Ballard claims that her partner admitted to stealing heroin from police custody and Tony Giles helped him launder the money. When Sheridan was blackmailed for more money, he snapped and killed his fence, Tony Giles, and his wife Karen Giles, to cover it up.” Morgan looked up at the disbelieving faces in front of him and massaged his face with his right hand. “Baltimore PD formally dropped the charges against Winchester in September 2008 for the murder of Tony and Karen Giles. But seeing as they never bothered to press charges for escaping police custody in November 2006, they seem pretty convinced he wasn’t involved.”
The room went quiet as the team tried to absorb the new information, each mentally rearranging the facts of Winchester’s case to create a cohesive profile. JJ simply took the dry erase marker in her right and started to erase the Baltimore victims. It was only when she started erasing the Baltimore section entirely that Hotch stopped her.
“I think we need to watch the video that Baltimore PD sent over.” Hotch said. “Even if he wasn’t responsible for the Giles’ murder, it’s still an opportunity to learn more about our subject. Henricksen continued to keep this case as reference, why don’t we watch the video before discounting Baltimore entirely.”
As Morgan loaded the video on to the old desktop computer he was using, Hotch invited Captain Robert to watch with them. He agreed quickly, but with the caveat that he might have to leave suddenly as he was the on-call officer. Looking around, Hotch noticed that few officers remained in the station.
“Well, Officers Campbell left to consult with the Rangers at Trail of Tears State Park-there has been some vandalism lately and now we’ve got reports of another missing hiker. Officer Pankiewicz got called on an attempted robbery downtown, and Officers Jordan and Brown are off today. Officer Jones is finishing up processing Davis in the back and then he has to start writing up the investigative reports. So that leaves me until the night shift comes in,” Captain Robert explained quickly from his chair at the far side of the room.
At Hotch’s look of confusion, he explained further. “After we booked Davis, I told Jordan and Brown to go home. They deserve some time-off; they’d been working steady on it ever since we noticed the link between the first two victims. And well, we’ve got to limit our hours so we’re down to a six man shift rotation.”
Morgan gestured to Hotch that the video was ready to play, and Winchester’s face filled the screen and he looked straight into the camera as he began to talk. “My name is Dean Winchester. I’m an Aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women.” He pauses. “And I did not kill anyone. But I know who did. Or, rather, what did. Of course, I can’t be sure, because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory is that we’re looking for some kind of vengeful spirit.”
“Excuse me?” Rossi blurted out, just as the female detective did the same on screen. Hotch waved his colleague to silence and leaned forward, intent on capturing every nuance of Winchester’s confession.
“You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost? Tony Giles saw it. I’ll bet you cash money Karen did, too. But the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason, it’s trying to tell us something. But communicating across the veil ain’t easy. Sometimes the spirits-they get things jumbled. You remember “redrum”? Same concept. It can be word fragments, and other times…” Here Winchester pulls out a piece of paper. Hotch can see it’s covered with messy scrawl, a list of names with some crossed out. Winchester continues, pointing to the paper, “…it’s anagrams. See, at first, we thought this was a name-Dana Shulps. But now, we think it’s a street-Ashland. Whatever’s going on, I bet it started there.”
Winchester smiles on screen, looking at the two incredulous detectives. He’s relaxed, Hotch noticed, apparently pleased to have elicited such a reaction from his captors. The late Detective Sheridan’s voice comes on screen after a moment. “You arrogant bastard. Tony and Karen were good people, and you’re making jokes.”
Winchester replies without missing a beat, “I’m not joking, Ponch.”
Detective Sheridan is getting increasingly upset at Winchester’s flippant tone. “You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis.”
Winchester looks straight into the camera again. “Oh, yeah, that wasn’t me either. That was a shape shifter creature that only looked like me.”
Detective Sheridan has had enough. He grabs Winchester and slams him up against the wall. Winchester lets out a soft whoosh of air and the two struggle for a moment before Detective Ballard intervenes. “Pete that’s enough!”
Winchester can’t leave well enough alone. “You asked for the truth” he responds mockingly when Detective Sheridan lets him go reluctantly.
The video ends with Sheridan instructing another office to lock Winchester up.
The room is silent for a beat. Predictably, Rossi broke the stillness, “How the hell did Henricksen arrive at thrill killer after seeing this video? From the St. Louis murders alone, I can understand it, but this?” He shook his head disgustedly, “This is a full on psychotic break!”
“Did you listen to the words he used?” asked Reid intently. When the team turned their attention to him, he crossed his arms awkwardly across his chest and explained, “His word choice is interesting. It sounds like he’s trying to use police vernacular-the use of “investigation” and “working theory” in particular suggest that he sees himself as having equal, if not greater, authority on these supernatural crimes he’s trying to solve.”
“Did you notice the pronouns?” asked Prentiss. “He used the plural-‘our investigation,’ ‘our working theory,’ ‘we think’-he considers his brother an equal in this.”
“Not the dominant personality then,” mused Hotch. He looked at the whiteboard balefully-so much for the morning’s work. “You’re right. If he were the dominant of the pair, he wouldn’t share the credit.” Hotch noticed Morgan was being unusually reticent, choosing to play and replay sections of the taped interview. “Morgan, what are you looking for?”
Morgan started slowly. “I think I get where Henricksen was coming from. Look, Winchester seems pretty adamant about a ghost causing the death of the Giles’, but he’s also calm and making pop-culture jokes. Reid, you talked about his words-he said he investigated. A visionary killer doesn’t need to investigate, he’s been told by God, a demon, or in Berkowitz’s case, a dog! They’re told who to kill and why.”
“Plus, Winchester mentions two types of monsters. We’ve got him blaming a spirit for the Giles’ and a shape shifter for the women in St. Louis-usually we see some consistency within the delusions,” Morgan finished. He grinned and looked at Reid. “Though I have to say kid, it puts a new spin on your evil twin, eviler twin theory.”
Reid picked up the papers he had been looking through earlier and studiously ignored Morgan and the rest of his sniggering teammates. As he paged through the end of the stack, Rossi moved to the whiteboard. “What about the father?” he asked, pointing at the section on the right. “We know the mother died in a house fire and John Winchester never held down a steady job or address again. He takes the two boys on the road and they all live a vagrant lifestyle until the younger brother leaves for college.”
“The father clearly had some sort of break after his wife’s death, maybe he’s the visionary killer. Growing up, the brothers would have been raised to believe in the father’s delusions, participate as well.” Rossi had been writing on the board as he theorized, and turned back to face the group when he finished.
Reid chimed in, having paged through the scans of Henricksen’s case notes that the Bureau had faxed over. “Looks like Henricksen was on his way to that conclusion himself as well. He has some vague notes about possible sexual trauma in his youth at the hands of the father, and has a few articles about brainwashing named in the margins. But these are all dated about three months before his death, so I’m unclear what his operating theory was when he died-what approach he used when he spoke to Winchester last.”
“So basically, the kid’s been brainwashed to think that some people are monsters and it’s his job to kill ‘em.” Captain Robert summarized succinctly from the far side of the room.
“That’s the current theory, yes,” Hotch agreed. “I think it’s time we go back in and talk to Mr. Winchester. Find out what happened in Colorado and what he’s been up to for the past year.”
“Hotch, I think I should observe this go-round,” Rossi said. “He’s already been able to distract me once, if I go in, we’re not going to get anywhere. Take Prentiss with you.”
A dark smile spread across Prentiss’s face. Hotch was glad for her enthusiasm, if slightly perturbed by her predatory expression.
Rossi turned to Morgan and Reid, both of whom looked slightly disappointed. “Reid, you’re injured-there’s no way we’re letting you and Hotch in there together. He’s managed to escape police custody too many times for me to be certain he’s secure. Winchester thinks he’s something of a ladies man, maybe Prentiss will have better luck getting a reaction.”
Morgan and Reid nodded reluctantly, but Prentiss didn’t roll her eyes as she usually did whenever Rossi mentioned anything to do with her “feminine wiles.” Hotch made a mental note to schedule Rossi for the next available Sexual Harassment seminar.
Hotch turned to Captain Robert. “Captain, can we borrow your video camera again? I’d like to tape this interview if possible.” Pivoting slightly on his left heel, he addressed Morgan and Rossi next. “I want you both to check out nearby motels. If Sam Winchester is alive, there’s a strong possibility he’s hiding out in the area. It can’t hurt to check.”
“JJ, Reid-I want you to get in contact with the rest of Henricksen’s lists. Tell them we know about Winchester’s delusions. Ask them for everything he talked about, no matter how odd. Ask them if they remember anything he said about previous towns they’d visited. Given that the mother died in 1983, it’s possible the family’s killed many more people than we initially thought.” Hotch finished, and dismissed his team with a gruff, “Let’s get to work.”
* * * * * *
Dean Winchester was tapping rhythmically against the metal table when Hotch and Prentiss entered the room. “What happened to the old dude with good musical taste?” he asked as the two agents seated themselves across the table.
“He’s busy,” Prentiss told him. She tilted her head to the side and regarded the suspect coolly. “What, you don’t like the switch?”
Winchester had a lazy grin on his face. “I gotta say, you are much nicer on the eyes Agent?” his voice trailed off curiously.
“I have a few questions for you about your childhood,” Hotch broke in, drawing Winchester’s attention back to himself.
Winchester’s face immediately went blank and he refused to answer.
“We know that you had a nomadic childhood after the death of your mother. From what we can tell, your father moved you and Sam around the country every couple of months. That couldn’t have been easy as a child. Hard to make friends that way.”
“It was fine,” Winchester replied tersely.
“Why did you move around so much?” Hotch pressed, hoping his questions might break something loose. “Did you father ever really give you an answer? Or did he just tell you not to ask questions?”
“A lot of men are not cut out to be single fathers-some just snap. It’s a sad fact of life. But you’re an adult now, you don’t have to be afraid of him, or protect him, anymore.”
Winchester frowned, apparently hearing Hotch’s implicit accusation of sexual abuse and finding it disgusting judging by the increasingly revolted look on his face. After a moment his head rose, his smug grin back in place. Ignoring Hotch completely, he turned to Prentiss and asked, “So are you here as eye candy? I mean, you’re doing a pretty good at that-though if you’d unbutton a couple more buttons I think your performance reviews would show some improvement.”
Prentiss smiled fixedly. “My name is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss,” she ground out, jaws clenched to avoid police brutality. “I would like to talk to you about what happened to those women in St. Louis.”
“Why don’t we talk about something else? Seen any good movies recently?” Winchester asked with a grin.
“Were you this charming when you met Rebecca Warren?” Prentiss asked. She continued accusingly, “When she shot you down, did you get angry, decide to get even? Maybe slice her up a bit to show her who’s the boss?”
Winchester grin slipped at Prentiss’ first reply, and disappeared entirely by the end of Prentiss’ question. He crossed his arms as much as the chain holding him to the table would allow. “I told you, I didn’t kill those women. I told Henricksen that too. Plus those cops in Baltimore. And those cops in Arkansas.” Winchester grew increasingly agitated. “Look, have you even asked her if I did it? She’ll tell you it wasn’t me.”
“You know, we saw your confession from Baltimore,” Hotch replied conversationally. “Apparently, a monster did it. With an explanation like that, it is a mystery why people don’t just take you at your word.”
Winchester sighed, “You’ve really got to work on that air quotes problem of yours. You and Agent Scully over there should remember you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”
“We’ll take that into consideration,” Prentiss responded. “You have to admit, though, a shape shifter murdered those women in St. Louis? A bloodthirsty ghost killed that couple in Baltimore? That’s a lot for us to take on faith alone.”
“Ok, first off, you know that Detective Sheridan killed those people in Baltimore,” Winchester’s large shoulders were tensing. “We thought it was ghost, but it turned out she was just trying to warn everyone around him-not kill ‘em.”
“Secondly, fuck off,” Winchester smiled bitterly. “You’ve already made up your minds about me. No matter what I say, you’ve decided I’m some crazy psycho.”
“Why do you say that?” Prentiss asked, leaning forward earnestly.
Winchester looked at her for a long moment. “You said it yourself, you’re not going to take anything I say on faith alone. People believe what they see. And most cops don’t care to see anything beyond pastries and the end of their shift.”
“We’re not cops,” Hotch interrupted, not allowing Prentiss to respond. “We’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, our job is to provide assistance to local cops through criminal investigative analysis. We look at crimes from a behavioral and investigative perspective.”
“You investigate serial offenders,” Winchester summarized. At Hotch’s raised eyebrow, he continued, “I speak bureaucratese too, you know?”
“And your fancy mission statement isn’t really helping your cause. It means you’re looking at me as a serial killer. Meaning you aren’t going to listen to a single thing that doesn’t slot me into one of those tidy labels you folks have such a hard-on for.”
“You have a kid, right?” he asked, looking at Hotch. When Hotch tried to protest, Dean ignored him, “Of course you do, it’s written all over your face. Does your kid ever ask you about the monsters under his bed or in his closet?”
Nonplussed, Hotch answered, “That’s not relevant, we’re here to talk about St. Louis.”
Winchester leaned back, “You shouldn’t tell him they’re not real and he’s safe in his bed. Those fuckers will eat him without a moment’s hesitation, and then wear his meat suit while killing you with a smile on their faces. I’m not sure how to make this any clearer to you-monsters are real. All that shit you were afraid of as a kid? Is just waiting for the right opportunity.”
“So, you and your family hunt the things that go bump in the night?” Prentiss asked. “You’re just trying to save people?”
“Who else is going to do it?”
* * * * * *
“Office of omniscience, who thinks themselves worthy?” a perky voice answered her ringing phone.
“Shouldn’t you know?” Reid asked wryly. “By definition, you should know who is calling and what about?”
“Oh my junior G-man, but I do know what you’re calling about,” Garcia replied. “Plus my caller-ID has mad skills, but I know how you love a bad turn of phrase.”
“Did you find anything on John Winchester?” Reid pressed.
“Nothing’s popped up since the last time you asked,” Garcia replied slightly testily. “Honestly? I don’t see this lack of paper trail too often-usually in those ‘I’m going to live off-the-land and off-the-grid’ crazy types you find out in the backcountry. There are some outstanding warrants for his arrest from the early-nineties, but nothing since then.”
“Hmmm,” Reid replied distractedly.
“Is that a ‘Thanks Garcia for the fabulous information that’s leading to a theory to catch the crazy yet studly serial killer’ or ‘Am I wearing clean underwear’ sound?” Garcia asked curiously when no further conversation followed.
“It’s a ‘What made John Winchester want to disappear so completely and what did he tell his sons about it?’ sound,” Reid replied distantly. “Thanks Garcia.”
Part two
Author: Jujuberry136
Rating: PG-13/ FRT
Warnings: language, violence
Pairing: none (gen)
Word Count: 28,949
Summary: When Aaron Hotchner stepped into the interrogation room to interview one of the FBI’s most wanted unexpectedly apprehended earlier in the afternoon, he never thought the evening would end with bloodshed and rock references. Crossover with Supernatural.
Notes: Spoilers through Season 4 of Criminal Minds and through Season 4 of Supernatural. Title from the Led Zeppelin song “Ramble On.” Special thanks to ambrosia4all for the AWESOME beta, Wikipedia, Supernatural.wikia.com, and horrornews.com for Supernatural transcripts. Furthermore, this fic owes a debt of inspiration to Kikkimax’s “Defect” and PaBurke’s “Hunters and Prey.”
Disclaimer: Criminal Minds belongs to Ed Bernero, Supernatural to Eric Kripke. Dialogue used from “The Usual Suspects” written by Cathryn Humphris (original airdate 9/9/2006 on the CW)
"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness." Joseph Conrad
Aaron Hotchner was supposed to be finishing his paperwork at the moment. He should have been drafting his second letter of appeal to Agent Strauss to be cleared for field operations. He should have been ignoring yet another argument between Prentiss and Reid over their favorite incarnation of some doctor on a BBC show (he was not the only one to be studiously avoiding asking either agent for clarification for fear of explanation). He should have been on a plane leaving Missouri a small speck in the jet’s window.
Instead he was outside the Jackson Police station not 5 hours after they left. The JPD had finally charged Henry Davis, who had confessed after 3 hours of intense interrogation, with the deaths of three nurses over the course of the past year. Davis had wired each woman’s lightning rod into its fuse box-when their houses were struck the boxes overloaded and burnt the house down. Davis confessed, in his oddly staccato voice, to having tampered with the doors and windows to lock the women into their homes before thunderstorms to ensure they burnt alive. Hotch made a mental note to specifically praise Morgan’s incendiary analysis in his final report-it was due to his vigilance at each scene that the link between the lightning rod and the fuse boxes had been discovered.
JJ interrupted his ruminations, with a quiet “Are we going to go in, sir?” She was standing outside the rented SUV but hadn’t yet closed the door. Looking at his rumpled media liaison, Hotch felt another pang of regret; he supposed JJ had been anticipating her own return to Henry.
Hotch looked down at his buckled safety belt with some surprise, nodding slowly, and opened the door. Rossi, Prentiss, Reid, and Morgan were still at the hotel. He had put the team on stand-down, but had a sneaking suspicion they were simply waiting until he was distracted to return to the station. It’s not everyday the BAU successfully caught their unsub and a suspect on the most wanted list.
“Have Garcia pull up all of the files we have on this guy. Tell her to start digging, nothing too deep until we have confirmation of his identity.” JJ nodded and opened her phone while Hotch threaded his way through the crowded desks on the floor to Captain Robert’s office.
Captain Robert didn’t even have the decency to look exhausted-he’d changed his suit at some point, but still exuded the same energy and confidence he’d displayed during the course of the Davis investigation. The police captain grinned wryly at Hotch’s unannounced entry, “Bet you didn’t expect to see us so soon again?”
The captain stood, “He was picked up about an hour ago for hitchhiking on Route 34. Officer Jones was originally going to write him a ticket when he pulled over, but he thought the man looked familiar. Since he was claiming to be looking for the police anyway, we just decided to bring him in. Could have knocked me down with a feather when he passed his own wanted poster on the walk in. We’ve left him in the interview room so far. Called you lot instead of the St. Louis office. No offense, but those guys are some of the biggest-“
Hotch interrupted before the Captain could say anything too impolitic. “So the identification is visual only at this point?”
Captain Robert shook his head, “We’ve taken his fingerprints for confirmation, but the physical description’s a lock. He’s currently claiming to be David St. Hubbins, says he was car jacked and was just trying to wave down a lift into town to get to the police station.”
Captain Robert looked concerned, “When he came in he requested some water. We gave him a cup and a pitcher. So not only does he have those, but as we didn’t want to alert him that his cover was blown we didn’t search him thoroughly.” He sighed heavily, “I’m not comfortable letting an interview take place until we pat him down. His record shows he usually carries a handgun and has shown a preference for knives, so there’s a high chance he’s carrying at least one. How do you want to approach this?”
Hotch paused in front of interview room, glancing inside he could see the tall man had tilted his chair against the wall and appeared to be sleeping, though the set of his shoulders looked too tense for true repose. “Don’t let anyone into the room until we have more information. Once we have more information, I’ll go in-we’ll search him for weapons then. You said on the phone that he’s been calm so far, so let’s hope that continues until we go in. Just in case, I’ll have my technical analyst do a search for Mr. St. Hubbins.”
Seeing Captain Robert nod, Hotch stepped aside and called Garcia.
“Font of wisdom speaking, how can I help you lesser mortal?”
“Garcia I need you to run the name David St. Hubbins, he would have a California Drivers License, supposedly lives in Pomona.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line, “Sir, you want me to investigate David St. Hubbins? Is this for the masters round of Trivial Pursuit? Did Reid finally allow someone to call a lifeline? Oh wait, are you timed like in the show?”
Hotch broke in when he sensed Garcia was ready to breath, “What exactly are you talking about?” For a moment there was complete silence, then a suspicious thump before Garcia began talking, this time more rapidly than before.
“Sir! Oh, um, right on it. Professionally investigating in a Federal Bureau of Investigation sort of way Mr. St. Hubbins. Just a moment, sir.” She paused, “Sorry, it’s just that David St. Hubbins is a character from Spinal Tap. You know, the Christopher Guest movie? About a fictional rock band?” Her voice trailed off and Hotch heard her fingers move across the keyboard rapidly. “Sorry sir, there isn’t any Mr. David St. Hubbins anywhere in Pomona that I can find.”
Hotch looked back into the room and started to examine the suspect more carefully. The man’s clothes were worn, his jean jacket folded carefully on the table. “Garcia, I want you to fax all the files JJ asked you to pull up earlier to the station. I want everything-the official case file, notes, contact information for every witness interviewed on this case. I also want you to find the case report for the explosion that killed the previous supervisory agent.”
“Already done sir, JJ’s been manning the fax since you arrived, sir.”
Hotch closed his phone and walked towards Captain Robert, who had been helping JJ organize the still incoming paperwork. JJ had pulled out the whiteboard the team had used only a few hours ago and started posting pictures and writing dates of suspected killings from the case file. Captain Robert had pulled aside Officer Jones, and the two were deep in conversation.
Seeing the fax continuing to shoot out paperwork, Hotch asked, “JJ, how long has the Bureau been investigating?”
JJ scanned the case file quickly, “Looks like about two years. The case was considered closed because it was assumed the suspect died in the same explosion that killed the lead agent,” she rifled through the pages again. “It says here that Agent Victor Henricksen was assigned the case in 2006 and was killed in action in early 2008 in Colorado. Shortly after Henricksen reported the successful capture of the Winchester brothers, the police station in Mission exploded-killed four police officers, the Sheriff, the office administrator, Deputy Director Steven Groves, Agent Henricksen himself, two field agents, and supposedly both brothers.”
“Apparently at least one of the brothers survived,” Hotch replied drily. He looked over at Captain Robert, who had joined JJ when he saw that Hotch was finished with his phone call. “Captain, I’m not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth, but the Bureau officially closed this case-any idea why his picture’s on the wall?”
Captain Robert pointed over at an uncomfortable looking Officer Jones. The younger office looked towards the ceiling and started to explain, “Well sir, updating the Wanted Board used to be Sammi’s job, but her position was cut in last year’s budget. And, well, we’ve just been too busy since to keep it current.” He shifted his weight a few times before continuing, “Guess it came in pretty handy this time. I doubt I would’ve recognized him if I hadn’t been passing his mug shot everyday for a year and a half.”
Before Hotch could respond, the station’s main door opened and admitted four slightly rumpled looking FBI agents. Hotch suspected JJ of calling the team; the blonde agent’s attention was completely focused on taping pictures to the whiteboard and she was refusing to look at him.
While Reid, Prentiss, and Morgan avoided Hotch’s glare, Rossi merely grinned as he shook Captain Robert’s hand and introduced himself to Officer Jones, who hadn’t been involved in the Davis investigation. “Love what you’ve done with the place,” he remarked, looking around the room slowly.
Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid simply walked up the board JJ had been putting together and started to read, though Reid’s approach could more accurately be termed hobbling. For the first time in his career, Hotch was grateful for the Bureau’s budget crisis-his team had to be sent out, even with two agents technically on restricted duty, because there was no one else. He still wasn’t buying Reid’s story of tearing his ACL while helping Garcia move, but they were sticking to their story. In any case, the youngest member of his team was on crutches for the foreseeable future.
Predictably, Reid finished examining the board first and moved on to the thick ream of paper JJ had faxed to the office. Stealing two chairs, one for him and one to rest his leg, he began summarizing after scanning the first section of suspect history. “Looks like his father was a marine, mother died when he was a child. After that we only have the misdemeanor charges from his late teens of breaking and entering, and another charge of grave desecration in 2001.”
“Henricksen thought the St. Louis murders in 2005 were his first. Looks like he used a knife to torture three women, ultimately killing two of them. The third survived when the police stormed her house-looks like he preferred to use the victims’ homes instead of a new location. Left their bodies out in the open when he was done.” Reid paused, eyes still moving rapidly across the case file.
“No remorse then,” Prentiss commented as she finished her first look at the suspect. “Egomaniac or narcissistic personality disorder? From the few times he’s been held in custody, we can see that he’s condescending-the authorities aren’t in a position to know what’s really going on. Henricksen’s notes definitely support the unsub having an inflated sense of self.”
She started to pace, three steps forward then three steps back. “He works with his younger brother, Henricksen thought the older was the dominant personality. Looks like the younger brother escaped for a few years, went to college. Then his girlfriend dies. The Palo Alto PD ruled the death a result of an accidental fire due to faulty wiring. Younger brother reported that he and his brother had been on a camping trip and came back to the apartment building on fire. They left the day of the funeral.”
“Did Henricksen think the brother had anything to do with the fire?” Rossi asked.
“Neighbors reported that the brothers left to go on a last minute camping trip. According to a friend, they were trying to find their father who had gone out of contact on a hunting trip,” Reid replied softly. “What’s more interesting, however, is that the family seems to have a history with fires-the mother died in 1983 in a house fire, then the girlfriend in 2005, then supposedly both brothers in early 2009.”
“How old was he in 1983?” Rossi asked sharply.
“Looks like he was four,” Morgan replied. “It’s possible he set the 2005 fire and caused the 2009 explosion, but the 1983 fire destroyed the entire house-I’m not sure a kid playing with matches could cause that kind of damage.” He paused and looked up at the whiteboard, frowning slightly. “I want to say he’s a revenge arsonist, but the St. Louis murders complicate things.” He shook his head at the bloody images in front of him.
“You’re right. The fires are probably secondary.” Rossi agreed. “He planned his killings in St. Louis and managed to escape cleanly when he was discovered by the police. He evaded FBI detection for over two years, and faked his death again in 2009. He’s organized, smart, and knows how to stay off the grid when necessary. What do we know about his early life?”
“Garcia’s on it. Henricksen’s notes suggest that while this one may be the dominant personality, he’s most likely a hedonistic thrill killer. If you look at the St. Louis victims, the victims were killed in their homes and by all reports had never met him. Henricksen suggests the younger brother is the planner of the two.” Hotch paused to consider. “At this point, I’m unsure if we should operate under the assumption the brother is alive or not.”
“If we follow from Henricksen’s notes, then it might be safe to assume the brother is dead,” Reid argued. “Without his brother, he’s lost most of his ability to plan ahead. He’s become unstable, probably the reason he thought he could walk into a police station without detection.”
“Now, he’s been sitting in police custody now for about an hour and aside from the occasional deputy asking him for clarification on his supposed mugging, nothing’s happened. He has to know something’s up, what’s the next step?” Hotch asked.
“Maybe he thought enough time had passed he wouldn’t be recognized.” JJ suggested. “What’re the odds that he’d get picked up in a station that hadn’t updated its most wanted board in 18 months?”
Before Reid could answer with the appropriate statistic, Prentiss started to speak. “Even with his diminished planning abilities, I still don’t think this was an accident. Look at this guy’s rap sheet, there’s no way this was a mistake.”
At their looks, she explained further. “From what little we’ve got on his life before 2004, we know that a few things are always constant. The brother, violence, and?” her voice trailed off suggestively. “What’s missing?”
Rossi realized it first, “No car. Even after the Bureau first started investigating they continued to drive the ’67 Chevy.”
Prentiss gave a small grin, “Boys and their toys. If this were truly spontaneous, he’d be furious right now-not cooling his heels in an interrogation room. And that’s with the assumption that Joe Carjacker would be able to overpower him.”
“So are we dealing with an unsub who’s spiraling or one who has he changed his M.O?” Hotch looked at his team. “He’s lost two of his defining characteristics. Rossi, you and I are going to get a feel for his mental state-is he in control? The rest of you, continue to go over the information Garcia sent over and assemble a cohesive profile. Agent Henricksen’s team got us started-let’s get it done.”
“JJ, I want you to get in contact with everyone Henricksen talked to in St. Louis.” Hotch instructed.
Before he could continue, JJ interrupted, “Hotch, it looks like Henricksen also had encounters with the brothers in Milwaukee during an attempted bank robbery, in Green River County in Arkansas where they escaped from prison, and has extensive notes from a local Baltimore investigation into the murders of a husband and wife.”
“Then I want anyone who came in contact with either brother or Agent Henricksen on the phone from all of those cities as well. When you get them on the phone, let me know.” Hotch smiled tightly. He picked up a large cardboard box and walked towards the only interrogation room in the Jackson Police Station.
Rossi caught up to him quickly. Before opening the door, he paused and turned to Hotch and smiled grimly. “Ready to push some buttons Agent Hotchner?”
“Apparently it’s one of Mr. Winchester’s favorite activities. I’m sure we’ll get along swimmingly.”
* * * * * *
Hotch and Rossi entered the interview room, each carrying large boxes which they promptly dumped on the wooden table. The man in the corner didn’t so much as flinch from the noise. Hotch reached into the box and pulled out a thick file folder, “Good afternoon Dean.”
The man opened an eye lazily, “Who?” He gave a half grin, “The name’s David St. Hubbins, that’s H-U-B-B-“
“You’re really going to try this?” Rossi asked. “Let’s just cut the crap. You’re Dean Winchester, born January 4, 1979 in Lawrence, Kansas. Son of Mary and John Winchester, one younger brother Samuel.”
Hotch noticed Winchester try to hide a small wince as Rossi reeled off the facts of his life. Was he worried they knew so much about his life, or was it the reminder of his brother? Looking at their suspect, Hotch could see how he was able to fly under the radar for so long. He was conventionally handsome, tall, and wore the uniform of the average young American-jeans, boots, and a tee shirt. Hotch doubted the three St. Louis victims had the chance to notice the jeans were threadbare and showed signs of repeated repairs. Or that his boots were scuffed and had suspicious stains along the sole.
“Gold star to the G-man,” replied Winchester, his mouth falling into an easy smirk. “But if you can tell me what color underwear I’ve got on, then I’ll really be impressed.”
Before Hotch had the opportunity to respond, Rossi responded. “This is funny? You tortured three women and killed two in St. Louis. What, couldn’t get it up?”
Aaron Hotchner had seen suspects shrug off accusations of impotence, had seen them start swinging, and, in one rare case, start tearing up. All of which helped his team refine their profile. Winchester’s reaction, however, wasn’t encouraging.
He started to laugh.
Winchester’s body was shaking as he pounded his leg emphatically. “Dude, you are hilarious. Your talent is wasted here, have you thought about stand-up?” He wheezed for a few moments before coming under control. He looked up at Rossi curiously. “You honestly think that one day I couldn’t get a stiffie so I decided a spot of murder would be some type of creepy Viagra?”
Hotch gave Rossi a long look and decided to try another track. “Mr. Winchester, why were you in St. Louis in 2005?”
Winchester started playing with the glass the officers had left for him earlier. Hotch made sure to track his hands as he passed it from hand to hand, occasionally tapping rhythmically with his index fingers along the rim. “Look, I went over this before. I didn’t kill those women. The police found the guy who did it-buried him and everything. Apparently he looked a heck of a lot like me. So why not get while the going was good?”
“Without bothering to tell the police you were alive?” asked Rossi skeptically.
Winchester rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, I bet they would have welcomed me with flowers and pie. Look, they found the guy who did it and he’s not around to hurt anybody anymore. Maybe he was my evil twin or something. No real reason to stick around while some donut-obsessed member of St. Louis’ finest tried to wrap his little mind around the fact that two guys can look alike, but one’s not a murdering psychopath.”
Winchester’s fingers had continued to tap along the rim of his water glass during his explanation. Rossi’s eyes widened slightly and asked incredulously, “Are you drumming Led Zeppelin?”
Winchester’s fingers paused and the man grinned at Rossi. “Good song.”
While Rossi attempted to recover from his lapse, Hotch glared at the unrepentant man in front of him. Henricksen’s notes had mentioned how effectively Winchester misdirected conversations, but he had understated how infuriating their suspect could be. “Mr. Winchester, let’s say your evil twin did in fact commit the murders in St. Louis, what’s your explanation for the murders in Baltimore? Did your evil twin commit bank robbery in Milwaukee too?”
“You, on the other hand, not so funny. Bet you think that John Denver is edgy,” Winchester complained, his eyes still bright. “By the way, I can totally hear the air quotes on evil twin. You might want to work on that.”
Before either FBI agent could respond, Winchester looked at them closely then slouched deeply into his chair. “You guys are talking out of your asses right now.”
“Why do you say that Mr. Winchester,” Hotch asked calmly, ignoring his desire to slap the smirk off his suspect’s face with long practice.
“‘Cause there’s no way you’d start by questioning the existence of my evil twin.” Winchester paused briefly, “And just so you know, the whole box with my name on it supposedly full of stuff the FBI’s found out about me trick really isn’t exactly the unknown. You might want to update your routine at some point. Just saying.”
As Winchester lectured, the interrogation room door opened and Morgan leaned in briefly. “Hotch, Rossi, there’s a situation you need to deal with out here.”
When the two agents started walking towards the door, Winchester spoke up. “What, you’re going to leave me alone again?” When neither agent responded, he yelled angrily at their retreating backs, “The least you could do is leave a magazine or something. Even the dentist has US Weekly!”
While Rossi continued into the busy office, Hotch pulled an officer aside to search Winchester. “Do a full search and take anything that could be used as a weapon or escape tool. He’s escaped police and federal custody at least three times, so anything that might be used as a lock pick should be confiscated immediately. When you finish, secure him and post a guard at the door.”
The young woman, Officer Campbell, looked slightly uncomfortable when Hotch finished. “Sir, I can put a man on the door for now, but we don’t have the man power to keep someone there continuously. As it is, I have to go out to talk to the Rangers at the Trail of Tears Park about some recent vandalisms.”
“Just do your best,” Hotch replied. “He’s killed two women that we know of and gotten away with it.” He quickly started back to the office to check in on his team’s progress with Henricksen’s case file.
* * * * * *
Upon his arrival, Hotch noticed the whiteboard had been updated with more pictures and a few basic facts from the bank robbery in Milwaukee as well as the murders in Baltimore. Hotch could see JJ reaching for the blue dry erase marker and realized Garcia had come through on the information on Winchester’s early life.
Morgan had taken over a desk and was talking quietly into the phone. When he saw Hotch, he waved him over. Holding a hand over the phone, he looked up and said quietly, “Hotch, I’ve got Detective Diana Ballard on the phone. She was one of the arresting officers in Baltimore. She says she doesn’t mind talking to us about the case, but wants us to watch the video from her partner’s interrogation first.”
“I think Henricksen has the transcripts from that interview in the case file. Is there any reason why she wants us to watch the video?” Hotch asked.
While Morgan repeated his question to Detective Ballard, Hotch walked over to Reid. The thin man, looking none too respectable in the same cardigan and tie as the day before, had taken over a corner desk and was busy assembling a timeline of the Winchester’s actions.
“How’s it going?” Hotch asked when it appeared Reid hadn’t noticed his arrival.
“The sheer amount of destruction and chaos he’s caused is terrifying,” replied Reid, his hand continuing to write in new information. “But there’s something unsatisfactory about the timeline.” He paused and looked up at Hotch, his forehead wrinkling slightly. “Actually, this case is disconcerting me.”
Before Hotch could ask if Reid wanted off the case or if he wanted to talk about it privately, Morgan called from across the room. “Kid, you’ve seen cases worse than this before. Sometimes people are just evil.”
“It’s not that,” Reid replied, his voice rising slightly as his eyes narrowed. “The crimes I can accept, it’s that the case as a whole doesn’t make sense.”
Before Morgan could reply, most likely with some line about murder not making sense that they’d all heard and said too many times, Hotch called to the rest of the team. “We can safely assume that Winchester’s stable. He was controlled and aware enough to attempt to maintain his alias until pressed with the facts.”
“I’ve sent an officer in to search him. Now that he knows we know who he is, there’s no point in taking additional chances. Though as far as I could tell he’s unarmed.” Rossi nodded his agreement. Hotch continued, “we’re back to the theory that he wants something. Specifically, he wants something from law enforcement.”
“Possibly something from the FBI,” Prentiss mused. “The Davis case got a lot of media attention in the area. Since he was picked up hitchhiking, it’s possible he caught some of the coverage and decided he wanted to talk.”
“But why now?” Reid asked exasperated. He made his way awkwardly to the whiteboard, his crutches punctuating the steady buzz of the station. As he continued to speak, he gestured vaguely with one arm towards the gruesome pictures taped there. “In the past he’s never tried to contact the police. In fact, he’d done everything in his power to avoid coming in contact with law enforcement-fake names, using cash and probably fake credit cards, and case in point, he’s faked his death twice now.”
Prentiss responded heatedly, “But look at their arrest in Green River County! They were arrested for trespassing in the Arkansas Museum of Anthropology-they broke a case and triggered the alarm!”
At Reid’s dubious look, she pressed onwards, “Kind of an amateur move for two people who had previously managed to evade S.W.A.T and then managed to break themselves out of prison. Henricksen theorized that they wanted to be arrested then too-“
Before this could venture too far-Hotch didn’t want a repeat of Reid and Morgan’s bitchfest over the implications of the Zodiac Killer’s cryptograms-Hotch asked loudly, “Let’s go over the facts first, then Henricksen’s theory, and see how it plays out with what we know. Morgan, call Garcia to see what she’s found so far.”
As Morgan moved to dial their resident technical analyst, Officer Campbell quietly reported to Captain Robert, who was sitting off the side watching the BAU work. Hotch wouldn’t be surprised to see an application from the Jackson Police Chief for the next seminar the BAU held in Washington on profiling in local police work. The man had been recalcitrant at the start of the Davis investigation, but their success at inducing a confession had apparently earned the unit a new convert.
Rossi started. “We know he was born in 1979, the eldest son of John and Mary Winchester. Mary was a housewife, John was a marine who served two tours in Vietnam, then came home to work as a mechanic. Dean has a younger brother, Samuel, born in 1983. Mary Winchester died in a house fire a few months after Sam’s birth. After the mother’s death, the father leaves Lawrence, Kansas with both boys.”
Garcia’s voice, tinny from the speakerphone in the office, picked up the narrative. “As far as I can tell, John Winchester hasn’t had a steady job since. He hasn’t paid taxes so no activity on his social security number. He doesn’t have a credit card under his name, and his drivers license expired about 15 years ago.”
“On the upside, I can track the family’s location a bit through the years. While they’re pretty much off the grid for over ten years, I was able to track down some educational records for the two boys once they hit high school. According to his college applications that I found, Sam Winchester claims to have attended six high schools from 1997 to 2001.”
Hotch decidedly didn’t think about how many civil liberties and privacy of information laws had been broken for Garcia to “find” that information.
“Campbell and DeNevi found through that among the 36 murderers and serial murderers they interviewed, 16% of the offenders experienced chronic instability and frequent moving and 47% experienced some home life instability,” Reid added, unable to stop the statistics at the tip of his tongue.
Used to the younger profiler’s tendency, Prentiss acknowledged the statistics with a nod of her head.
Morgan then asked, “Anything of note in the towns we know of while the Winchesters lived there?”
“Il mio bigné squisito scuro, you get a gold star for the day!” the technical analyst replied cheerily. While Reid and Morgan looked confused, Rossi and Prentiss groaned ever so slightly. “I heard that you two! That’s it, yearbook pictures are going viral!”
Hotch interrupted quickly before more threats could be levied. “What’s interesting about the surrounding towns Garcia?”
“I’ve found two cases of unexplained murders from nearby towns that fit in the timeframe that Sam Winchester reported in his college application.”
“Who was killed?” Morgan wanted to know.
“Looks like a man in Portage, Ohio was killed under suspicious circumstances in 1997-the same time the Winchesters were living in Bowling Green, Ohio.”
Reid interrupted quickly, “Dean didn’t graduate until 1998, and he would have been in high school at the time. Were the local PD sure it was a murder?”
“Kiddos, you asked for possible connections in Winchester’s early life-you got one. I called the Portage PD, no one there remembers the case, but the officer I talked to is going to try to find the police report and will fax it over to you ASAP.” Garcia replied briskly. “The other case was a man as well, all I could find online was that he was found dead inside a locked room and authorities were investigating. More info will be sent to you as it’s dug out of decade old storage units. I wouldn’t hold your breath for those files though.”
“Thanks Garcia.” Hotch said as he motioned for Morgan to hang up the phone. “What else do we know?”
“Well, he sure likes his classic rock.” Rossi pointed out ruefully. He turned to the team and explained, “Winchester was drumming a Led Zeppelin song when we were talking to him. It’s a possible tell, so be on the look out for it in the future.”
“His alias today was from a movie Garcia recognized,” Hotch added. “Spinal Tap or something similar.”
“Henricksen had a note that Winchester had a proclivity for using classic rock musicians as aliases,” Reid noted. He looked up at the team, his brow wrinkled, and started to talk. “Henricksen had training and criminology and behavioral profiling; he was working under the theory that Winchester is a hedonistic thrill killer. It fits in St. Louis-Winchester wants to dominate his victim, doesn’t spend too much time with each victim, and none of the victims showed signs of sexual abuse. Though the cause of death was still exsanguination in both sets of victims, the Baltimore victims ultimately died from severed carotid arteries while the St. Louis victims bled out due to numerous knife wounds.”
Noticing the blank looks on his teammates faces, Reid sped up, his words tumbling one after another as if he was afraid he wouldn’t have a chance to finish a thought. “It’s the 2007 bank robbery in Milwaukee that’s bothering me. He’d never exhibited a desire for monetary gratification before, so why rob a bank? At that point he’d already tortured three women in St. Louis and killed two of them and had been apprehended by police in Baltimore. It’s anomalous that he’d evolve to killing then return to lesser offenses.”
“Maybe his brother suggested it,” speculated Prentiss.
Morgan, who had been downloading a digital file of the Winchester interview with the Baltimore PD, spoke up. “Hotch, I’m not sure how much of the Baltimore investigation we should be looking at.” Seeing blank looks all around, Morgan asked, “Did you all miss the section on the investigating officers? Reid?”
While Reid avoided everyone’s disbelieving eyes, Rossi muttered under his breathe about focusing on the Green River County escape.
“I thought you had gotten in contact with Detective Ballard?” Hotch asked confusedly.
“I did, but Detective Ballard didn’t work the case solo. Her partner, Detective Peter Sheridan, was killed in the course of the investigation.” Morgan responded. “He was killed by Detective Ballard. She claims to have found him trying to execute Winchester on the side of the road and shot him in self-defense when he pulled his gun on her.”
“In her IAD statement, Ballard claims that her partner admitted to stealing heroin from police custody and Tony Giles helped him launder the money. When Sheridan was blackmailed for more money, he snapped and killed his fence, Tony Giles, and his wife Karen Giles, to cover it up.” Morgan looked up at the disbelieving faces in front of him and massaged his face with his right hand. “Baltimore PD formally dropped the charges against Winchester in September 2008 for the murder of Tony and Karen Giles. But seeing as they never bothered to press charges for escaping police custody in November 2006, they seem pretty convinced he wasn’t involved.”
The room went quiet as the team tried to absorb the new information, each mentally rearranging the facts of Winchester’s case to create a cohesive profile. JJ simply took the dry erase marker in her right and started to erase the Baltimore victims. It was only when she started erasing the Baltimore section entirely that Hotch stopped her.
“I think we need to watch the video that Baltimore PD sent over.” Hotch said. “Even if he wasn’t responsible for the Giles’ murder, it’s still an opportunity to learn more about our subject. Henricksen continued to keep this case as reference, why don’t we watch the video before discounting Baltimore entirely.”
As Morgan loaded the video on to the old desktop computer he was using, Hotch invited Captain Robert to watch with them. He agreed quickly, but with the caveat that he might have to leave suddenly as he was the on-call officer. Looking around, Hotch noticed that few officers remained in the station.
“Well, Officers Campbell left to consult with the Rangers at Trail of Tears State Park-there has been some vandalism lately and now we’ve got reports of another missing hiker. Officer Pankiewicz got called on an attempted robbery downtown, and Officers Jordan and Brown are off today. Officer Jones is finishing up processing Davis in the back and then he has to start writing up the investigative reports. So that leaves me until the night shift comes in,” Captain Robert explained quickly from his chair at the far side of the room.
At Hotch’s look of confusion, he explained further. “After we booked Davis, I told Jordan and Brown to go home. They deserve some time-off; they’d been working steady on it ever since we noticed the link between the first two victims. And well, we’ve got to limit our hours so we’re down to a six man shift rotation.”
Morgan gestured to Hotch that the video was ready to play, and Winchester’s face filled the screen and he looked straight into the camera as he began to talk. “My name is Dean Winchester. I’m an Aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women.” He pauses. “And I did not kill anyone. But I know who did. Or, rather, what did. Of course, I can’t be sure, because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory is that we’re looking for some kind of vengeful spirit.”
“Excuse me?” Rossi blurted out, just as the female detective did the same on screen. Hotch waved his colleague to silence and leaned forward, intent on capturing every nuance of Winchester’s confession.
“You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost? Tony Giles saw it. I’ll bet you cash money Karen did, too. But the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason, it’s trying to tell us something. But communicating across the veil ain’t easy. Sometimes the spirits-they get things jumbled. You remember “redrum”? Same concept. It can be word fragments, and other times…” Here Winchester pulls out a piece of paper. Hotch can see it’s covered with messy scrawl, a list of names with some crossed out. Winchester continues, pointing to the paper, “…it’s anagrams. See, at first, we thought this was a name-Dana Shulps. But now, we think it’s a street-Ashland. Whatever’s going on, I bet it started there.”
Winchester smiles on screen, looking at the two incredulous detectives. He’s relaxed, Hotch noticed, apparently pleased to have elicited such a reaction from his captors. The late Detective Sheridan’s voice comes on screen after a moment. “You arrogant bastard. Tony and Karen were good people, and you’re making jokes.”
Winchester replies without missing a beat, “I’m not joking, Ponch.”
Detective Sheridan is getting increasingly upset at Winchester’s flippant tone. “You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis.”
Winchester looks straight into the camera again. “Oh, yeah, that wasn’t me either. That was a shape shifter creature that only looked like me.”
Detective Sheridan has had enough. He grabs Winchester and slams him up against the wall. Winchester lets out a soft whoosh of air and the two struggle for a moment before Detective Ballard intervenes. “Pete that’s enough!”
Winchester can’t leave well enough alone. “You asked for the truth” he responds mockingly when Detective Sheridan lets him go reluctantly.
The video ends with Sheridan instructing another office to lock Winchester up.
The room is silent for a beat. Predictably, Rossi broke the stillness, “How the hell did Henricksen arrive at thrill killer after seeing this video? From the St. Louis murders alone, I can understand it, but this?” He shook his head disgustedly, “This is a full on psychotic break!”
“Did you listen to the words he used?” asked Reid intently. When the team turned their attention to him, he crossed his arms awkwardly across his chest and explained, “His word choice is interesting. It sounds like he’s trying to use police vernacular-the use of “investigation” and “working theory” in particular suggest that he sees himself as having equal, if not greater, authority on these supernatural crimes he’s trying to solve.”
“Did you notice the pronouns?” asked Prentiss. “He used the plural-‘our investigation,’ ‘our working theory,’ ‘we think’-he considers his brother an equal in this.”
“Not the dominant personality then,” mused Hotch. He looked at the whiteboard balefully-so much for the morning’s work. “You’re right. If he were the dominant of the pair, he wouldn’t share the credit.” Hotch noticed Morgan was being unusually reticent, choosing to play and replay sections of the taped interview. “Morgan, what are you looking for?”
Morgan started slowly. “I think I get where Henricksen was coming from. Look, Winchester seems pretty adamant about a ghost causing the death of the Giles’, but he’s also calm and making pop-culture jokes. Reid, you talked about his words-he said he investigated. A visionary killer doesn’t need to investigate, he’s been told by God, a demon, or in Berkowitz’s case, a dog! They’re told who to kill and why.”
“Plus, Winchester mentions two types of monsters. We’ve got him blaming a spirit for the Giles’ and a shape shifter for the women in St. Louis-usually we see some consistency within the delusions,” Morgan finished. He grinned and looked at Reid. “Though I have to say kid, it puts a new spin on your evil twin, eviler twin theory.”
Reid picked up the papers he had been looking through earlier and studiously ignored Morgan and the rest of his sniggering teammates. As he paged through the end of the stack, Rossi moved to the whiteboard. “What about the father?” he asked, pointing at the section on the right. “We know the mother died in a house fire and John Winchester never held down a steady job or address again. He takes the two boys on the road and they all live a vagrant lifestyle until the younger brother leaves for college.”
“The father clearly had some sort of break after his wife’s death, maybe he’s the visionary killer. Growing up, the brothers would have been raised to believe in the father’s delusions, participate as well.” Rossi had been writing on the board as he theorized, and turned back to face the group when he finished.
Reid chimed in, having paged through the scans of Henricksen’s case notes that the Bureau had faxed over. “Looks like Henricksen was on his way to that conclusion himself as well. He has some vague notes about possible sexual trauma in his youth at the hands of the father, and has a few articles about brainwashing named in the margins. But these are all dated about three months before his death, so I’m unclear what his operating theory was when he died-what approach he used when he spoke to Winchester last.”
“So basically, the kid’s been brainwashed to think that some people are monsters and it’s his job to kill ‘em.” Captain Robert summarized succinctly from the far side of the room.
“That’s the current theory, yes,” Hotch agreed. “I think it’s time we go back in and talk to Mr. Winchester. Find out what happened in Colorado and what he’s been up to for the past year.”
“Hotch, I think I should observe this go-round,” Rossi said. “He’s already been able to distract me once, if I go in, we’re not going to get anywhere. Take Prentiss with you.”
A dark smile spread across Prentiss’s face. Hotch was glad for her enthusiasm, if slightly perturbed by her predatory expression.
Rossi turned to Morgan and Reid, both of whom looked slightly disappointed. “Reid, you’re injured-there’s no way we’re letting you and Hotch in there together. He’s managed to escape police custody too many times for me to be certain he’s secure. Winchester thinks he’s something of a ladies man, maybe Prentiss will have better luck getting a reaction.”
Morgan and Reid nodded reluctantly, but Prentiss didn’t roll her eyes as she usually did whenever Rossi mentioned anything to do with her “feminine wiles.” Hotch made a mental note to schedule Rossi for the next available Sexual Harassment seminar.
Hotch turned to Captain Robert. “Captain, can we borrow your video camera again? I’d like to tape this interview if possible.” Pivoting slightly on his left heel, he addressed Morgan and Rossi next. “I want you both to check out nearby motels. If Sam Winchester is alive, there’s a strong possibility he’s hiding out in the area. It can’t hurt to check.”
“JJ, Reid-I want you to get in contact with the rest of Henricksen’s lists. Tell them we know about Winchester’s delusions. Ask them for everything he talked about, no matter how odd. Ask them if they remember anything he said about previous towns they’d visited. Given that the mother died in 1983, it’s possible the family’s killed many more people than we initially thought.” Hotch finished, and dismissed his team with a gruff, “Let’s get to work.”
* * * * * *
Dean Winchester was tapping rhythmically against the metal table when Hotch and Prentiss entered the room. “What happened to the old dude with good musical taste?” he asked as the two agents seated themselves across the table.
“He’s busy,” Prentiss told him. She tilted her head to the side and regarded the suspect coolly. “What, you don’t like the switch?”
Winchester had a lazy grin on his face. “I gotta say, you are much nicer on the eyes Agent?” his voice trailed off curiously.
“I have a few questions for you about your childhood,” Hotch broke in, drawing Winchester’s attention back to himself.
Winchester’s face immediately went blank and he refused to answer.
“We know that you had a nomadic childhood after the death of your mother. From what we can tell, your father moved you and Sam around the country every couple of months. That couldn’t have been easy as a child. Hard to make friends that way.”
“It was fine,” Winchester replied tersely.
“Why did you move around so much?” Hotch pressed, hoping his questions might break something loose. “Did you father ever really give you an answer? Or did he just tell you not to ask questions?”
“A lot of men are not cut out to be single fathers-some just snap. It’s a sad fact of life. But you’re an adult now, you don’t have to be afraid of him, or protect him, anymore.”
Winchester frowned, apparently hearing Hotch’s implicit accusation of sexual abuse and finding it disgusting judging by the increasingly revolted look on his face. After a moment his head rose, his smug grin back in place. Ignoring Hotch completely, he turned to Prentiss and asked, “So are you here as eye candy? I mean, you’re doing a pretty good at that-though if you’d unbutton a couple more buttons I think your performance reviews would show some improvement.”
Prentiss smiled fixedly. “My name is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss,” she ground out, jaws clenched to avoid police brutality. “I would like to talk to you about what happened to those women in St. Louis.”
“Why don’t we talk about something else? Seen any good movies recently?” Winchester asked with a grin.
“Were you this charming when you met Rebecca Warren?” Prentiss asked. She continued accusingly, “When she shot you down, did you get angry, decide to get even? Maybe slice her up a bit to show her who’s the boss?”
Winchester grin slipped at Prentiss’ first reply, and disappeared entirely by the end of Prentiss’ question. He crossed his arms as much as the chain holding him to the table would allow. “I told you, I didn’t kill those women. I told Henricksen that too. Plus those cops in Baltimore. And those cops in Arkansas.” Winchester grew increasingly agitated. “Look, have you even asked her if I did it? She’ll tell you it wasn’t me.”
“You know, we saw your confession from Baltimore,” Hotch replied conversationally. “Apparently, a monster did it. With an explanation like that, it is a mystery why people don’t just take you at your word.”
Winchester sighed, “You’ve really got to work on that air quotes problem of yours. You and Agent Scully over there should remember you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”
“We’ll take that into consideration,” Prentiss responded. “You have to admit, though, a shape shifter murdered those women in St. Louis? A bloodthirsty ghost killed that couple in Baltimore? That’s a lot for us to take on faith alone.”
“Ok, first off, you know that Detective Sheridan killed those people in Baltimore,” Winchester’s large shoulders were tensing. “We thought it was ghost, but it turned out she was just trying to warn everyone around him-not kill ‘em.”
“Secondly, fuck off,” Winchester smiled bitterly. “You’ve already made up your minds about me. No matter what I say, you’ve decided I’m some crazy psycho.”
“Why do you say that?” Prentiss asked, leaning forward earnestly.
Winchester looked at her for a long moment. “You said it yourself, you’re not going to take anything I say on faith alone. People believe what they see. And most cops don’t care to see anything beyond pastries and the end of their shift.”
“We’re not cops,” Hotch interrupted, not allowing Prentiss to respond. “We’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, our job is to provide assistance to local cops through criminal investigative analysis. We look at crimes from a behavioral and investigative perspective.”
“You investigate serial offenders,” Winchester summarized. At Hotch’s raised eyebrow, he continued, “I speak bureaucratese too, you know?”
“And your fancy mission statement isn’t really helping your cause. It means you’re looking at me as a serial killer. Meaning you aren’t going to listen to a single thing that doesn’t slot me into one of those tidy labels you folks have such a hard-on for.”
“You have a kid, right?” he asked, looking at Hotch. When Hotch tried to protest, Dean ignored him, “Of course you do, it’s written all over your face. Does your kid ever ask you about the monsters under his bed or in his closet?”
Nonplussed, Hotch answered, “That’s not relevant, we’re here to talk about St. Louis.”
Winchester leaned back, “You shouldn’t tell him they’re not real and he’s safe in his bed. Those fuckers will eat him without a moment’s hesitation, and then wear his meat suit while killing you with a smile on their faces. I’m not sure how to make this any clearer to you-monsters are real. All that shit you were afraid of as a kid? Is just waiting for the right opportunity.”
“So, you and your family hunt the things that go bump in the night?” Prentiss asked. “You’re just trying to save people?”
“Who else is going to do it?”
* * * * * *
“Office of omniscience, who thinks themselves worthy?” a perky voice answered her ringing phone.
“Shouldn’t you know?” Reid asked wryly. “By definition, you should know who is calling and what about?”
“Oh my junior G-man, but I do know what you’re calling about,” Garcia replied. “Plus my caller-ID has mad skills, but I know how you love a bad turn of phrase.”
“Did you find anything on John Winchester?” Reid pressed.
“Nothing’s popped up since the last time you asked,” Garcia replied slightly testily. “Honestly? I don’t see this lack of paper trail too often-usually in those ‘I’m going to live off-the-land and off-the-grid’ crazy types you find out in the backcountry. There are some outstanding warrants for his arrest from the early-nineties, but nothing since then.”
“Hmmm,” Reid replied distractedly.
“Is that a ‘Thanks Garcia for the fabulous information that’s leading to a theory to catch the crazy yet studly serial killer’ or ‘Am I wearing clean underwear’ sound?” Garcia asked curiously when no further conversation followed.
“It’s a ‘What made John Winchester want to disappear so completely and what did he tell his sons about it?’ sound,” Reid replied distantly. “Thanks Garcia.”
Part two