Takedowns (2/3), Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior
Title: Takedowns
Fandom: Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior
Rating: PG-13 (violence, mature language)
Words: 8,015/24,442
Summary/Notes: See Part One
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior or its characters - those belong to CBS. I am merely playing and will put them back when I'm done.
Day Two - 11:45 am
"So what was up with Mick?" Gina asked under her breath. She was leaning over Beth's shoulder, supposedly examining the map on the laptop.
"How do you mean?" Beth said absently, tapping in coordinates. Gina and Prophet had returned with lists of unregistered hunting cabins to be entered into the geo-profile.
"Way I heard it, he was on his knees, proposal-style. What brought that on?" Gina's voice was teasing, but Beth heard genuine interest. It made her fingers stumble over the keys.
"I make a point of not trying to figure out that man. I don't want to know what's going on in that scruffy head of his."
"Sure, Beth. Which is why you just placed that last cabin in the Carolinas."
Beth cursed and pulled up the cabin's entry to correct the coordinates. "Go away, Gina. Let me finish this."
"Fine, but we're finishing this conversation later." Gina patted her on the shoulder as she straightened up and walked away.
Beth turned her entire focus to the mapping program and quickly finished the entries. A few more clicks and the profile was displayed on the screen. The pattern would have been obvious to a five-year-old.
"Coop," she called. "I've got something."
The team hurried over to huddle around the computer. The Sheriff crowded in with them, asking "what's all that?"
" 'That' is a map of all the significant locations in the activities of the past two victims, with an overlay of all the hunting cabins that we could find coordinates for." Beth clicked on three points, then used the mouse to draw a circle encompassing them. "And this set of cabins is at the heart of it all."
"Those are all right by Hart's Bluff," Sheriff James observed. "Pretty out of the way. Very rugged country. A lot of tourists get hurt at the Bluff. Maybe this has something to do with an out-of-towner." There was hope in his tone that made Beth wince.
"These are the acts of a local resident, Sheriff," Coop said in his deep, calm voice. "They required knowledge of the woods, of the cabins. There is a killer at work here, and he or she is a member of your community."
Sheriff James rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. "I just can't believe that anyone in this town could do these things you're talking about."
Coop nodded slowly, and stepped around Beth to pull out a chair. "The patterns that we're seeing are too strong for coincidence. The damage to the bodies is too consistent - the broken legs, the dozens of smaller bones showing fractures, the two or three days of healing."
"But I know these folks," the Sheriff protested. "I grew up alongside them. There isn't one of them could do what you're saying this person is doing."
"I think we can assume that this unsub doesn't draw attention to himself through his behaviour. It's more common than you would think."
Sheriff James sighed heavily as he sat in the chair next to Coop's. "Then how are we going to find him?"
Coop looked up at Gina, who was standing at their victim board. She glanced at the board briefly and then sat beside Sheriff James.
"We're looking for someone with a lot of aggression. The broken bones, the healing period, the isolation: all of these point to a drive to violence. But we have to balance that against the fact that our killer has the social skills to isolate the victims, meaning he doesn't come across as a threat on short acquaintance."
Prophet walked around the conference table to sit on Beth's left. "We believe that this person is acting out his negative feelings towards young, fit, charming blond men over and over again. It's probable that this is a conscious choice, a specific person that the unsub wants to punish, rather than an irrational urge. The regular intervals between the abductions, the isolated body sites, and the choice of unnoticed victims all indicate that the unsub is intelligent and organized, capable of planning and patience."
Coop picked up the thread.
"We have to consider that with this unsub, death is not the final goal. Think about the injuries, the delay before death. It could be that killing these men is not the unsub's motivation. He has a plan, a ritual perhaps, that has to be acted out. Death is a side-effect of whatever he's doing to the victims."
"Like torture," Beth said, shaking her head. "In a remote hunting cabin in the woods. Horror movie in real life."
"I think so, yes," Coop agreed. He pushed himself up from his chair, and waited while everyone else did the same. "I think we can give you a rough profile now, Sheriff. Prophet?"
"We're looking for a male, aged twenty-five to thirty-five. Given the demographics of this town, he's white and employed in a job that puts him in contact with tourists on a regular basis."
"He's got a lot of experience with the woods," Mick added. "As a hunter or a hiker, maybe even a guide."
"And he's someone that our out-of-town victims are going to talk to, probably even trust in their vehicles," Gina put in. "He's intelligent, social, unthreatening. If he's taking the victims on without sedation, he's going to be strong, physically fit. If he's using drugs and restraints to subdue the victims, that's not necessarily the case."
"We can assume he's driven by something very negative: anger, resentment," Beth added. "He may have had a violent trauma involving a young man who looked like our victims. He may have acted out violently in the past, possibly in incidents involving blond men. And we should watch for something that happened a little over two years ago that tipped him into kidnapping and torture."
"The most important thing we know, though, is that his victims don't die right away," Coop to a step towards the Sheriff. "Which means that Matthew may still be alive for us to find. He's out there in those woods, and I think that Hart's Bluff may be an important part of this. Let's track down the owners of those cabins.''
Day Two - 1:30 pm
"They're owned by a husband and wife," Gina reported an hour later as she and Prophet walked into the conference room. "She rented a cabin to victim number one."
"And her husband rented cabins to victims two and three," Prophet continued, dropping into a chair. "But this is an under the table operation. They don't keep very good records of who rents the cabins, so she didn't even know it until we had her check with him. He's out of town visiting a sister in hospital. He hadn't heard about the search for the latest victim."
"What do we know about them?" Coop asked.
Mick spoke from where he sat beside Beth, a folder in his hands. "Jim Sizemore, thirty two. He's not local. He grew up in Charlotte, both parents and his sister still live there. He has trade training as a carpenter. Married Jane Andrews eight years ago. Moved here two years later to take over the wife's family's hardware store. He has a small side business in custom cabinetry. He's went to Charlotte to see his sister hours after he rented the cabin to Matthew."
"Anything else?"
"Nope. Doesn't have a record - not even a traffic violation - or a firearm permit. Never owned a gun, at least not legally."
"What about a hunting license?" Beth asked.
"Nah. Which makes him a weird one in this town," Mick observed.
Sheriff James chuckled. "That's right. Jim can't look at a dead deer without gagging. Doesn't say no to the venison once it's cooked, but he's a city boy when it came to dead animals."
"So he probably doesn't spend much time in the woods."
"Not much," the Sheriff agreed. "Jim's a weekend hiker at best, needs one of those GPS things to stay on the trail."
"Any chance he could be our unsub?" Coop asked.
Mick thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Unlikely. I don't see it in his background and I can't believe this unsub would kidnap a person and then leave town immediately. The timing's all wrong."
"Alright," Coop said, "let's put Jim aside for the moment. What can you tell me about Jane?"
Beth leaned forward in her chair and picked up her tablet. She felt the attention of the team focus on her.
"Jane Sizemore, nee Andrews, thirty. Born locally, both parents died in a car accident six years ago. One younger brother, Scott, twenty-seven. Went to school in Charlotte to get a diploma in business studies, met Jim and got married. Moved back to town when her parents died, to take over the hardware store. She also has a clean record, but she has a hunting license and owns two long-guns - a rifle and a shotgun."
"That's right," Sheriff James chimed in. "Jane always bags the Christmas birds for her family and a few other folks. Never known her to take a deer though."
"Any chance she could be our unsub?"
"Nothing in her history shows any violent behaviour," Beth said after a moment. "I've got Garcia checking into the backgrounds more deeply just in case there's anything else."
"Anything from the interviews catch your attention?" Coop asked, turning to Gina and Prophet.
"No, nothing," Prophet answered. "He's still at his sister's place, so I could only reach him by phone, but his voice didn't have any unusual stressors - just surprise and shock. He did ask about his wife quite frequently. I'd need to see them together to judge if he's the jealous type or just worried about her."
"She was definitely worried, but I couldn't read what it was about," Gina picked up the story. "It wasn't guilt, but I think it's worth talking to her again, and seeing what Garcia digs up."
"Let's all go," Coop suggested. "Get out of this office, get a feel for the town."
"Maybe pick up some lunch while we're at it," Beth suggested, standing up and closing her laptop.
"And coffee," Mick added in a low voice as they gathered their things. "The brew here could strip paint."
Beth huffed a laugh. "How can you tell through all that sugar and creamer?"
"Why do you think I add it, yeah? Anything to make the caffeine drinkable."
"Ah, addiction," she teased.
"Everyone has to have one vice," Mick protested as he shrugged into his coat.
"Somehow I doubt you stopped at one," Beth shot back as she pulled her jacket on. Mick glared at her, but before he could respond, Coop cut them off.
"You two coming?" He was barely hiding a grin.
They exchanged guilty glances and followed him from the room.
Day Two - 2:30 pm
After a quick lunch at the local family restaurant, the team made their way down the main street. Beth used the walk to take a reading on the character of the town. She noticed Prophet examining the various posters and signs along the street, and Mick appeared to be assessing the rooflines.
Gina confidently lead the way into Andrews Hardware and engaged the woman behind the counter in conversation. Beth held back a little, watching for physical cues. After an exchange of pleasantries, Gina started the interview.
"So you manage three cabins, is that right?"
"Yes." Jane's answer was reluctant, and Beth saw definite signs of nervous behaviour. "Are we in some kind of trouble?"
"Off-books hunting cabins aren't our concern," Gina said with a small smile. "We're looking into those tourists who turned up dead in the woods near Hart's Bluff."
"I told you about them earlier," Jane said. "I haven't remembered anything since then. I'm sorry, but I have calls I need to make. Will this take long?"
"We know that they stayed in your cabins," Beth interrupted, forcing Jane to look away from Gina. "We need to know everything you can tell us about their stay in the woods."
"I'm sorry, I don't know how I can help you." Jane Andrews twisted her fingers together. "I only spoke to the one boy. It was two years ago."
"To start with, can you tell me the details of the boys' reservations. You arranged the first one, your husband the other two, is that correct?"
"Yes," Jane said, nodding emphatically. She separated her hands and walked around the counter. She reached under and pulled out a spiral bound notebook. "I've got the dates right here."
Beth and Gina leaned over the counter as Jane flipped through the book. The first page she turned to had Travis Martin's name written in a loopy cursive with the notes 'Cabin 2' and 'Thurs nite' beside it. Gina pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture. Jane then turned a few dozen pages to find a line with Dennis Chapel's name, with 'Cabin 1' and 'Friday night' noted in a messy scrawl. Again, Gina took a photo.
"And Matthew House?" Beth asked. "He booked a night?"
"Day before yesterday," Jane answered. "Right here." She used a bookmark to turn to the entry, which was written in the same untidy handwriting as Dennis Chapel's name.
"You husband said that he just wanted the cabin for the night?" Gina asked. "He'd been camping up until then."
"Yes. It's been down around freezing this week, so I guess he wanted something more comfortable than a tent."
"And what about checkout? Weren't you a little concerned when he didn't get the keys back to you yesterday?"
Jane chuckled lightly. "We're not a hotel. I just keep the keys in a locked mailbox on the back door. They drop 'em off when they leave, I take them out when I have a chance to go check on the state of the cabin."
"State of the cabin?" Gina raised an eyebrow. "So you go up there to change the sheets, clean up?"
"These are hunting cabins, ma'am. It's bring your own everything. I'm not providing turn-down service. All I do is check that the place isn't covered in animal guts."
Beth smothered a laugh at the flash of disgust on Gina's face. "But you don't do that right after they leave?" she asked.
"Depends," Jane said. "If the person isn't a hunter, I don't rush up there to check. I don't see a note about these boys hunting. Anyway, with Jim out of town, I have to stay at the store."
"What about last year?" Beth turned the makeshift ledger so she could flip through the pages. "There's a bit of a gap after Dennis Chapel's reservation. Do you remember anything about the cabin from then?"
Jane looked down at the ledger. "Only time we aren't renting the cabins in season is if we're out of town. I think that's the week we went to Charlotte to visit Jim's family. Let me check the store records."
She turned and hurried to the back room before Beth and Gina could speak.
"What do you think?" Gina turned to Beth.
"I think she's relaxing. She's more than happy to talk about the cabins and the victims. I'm not seeing anything to worry about."
They broke off as Jane pushed through the door, a daybook in her hands.
"Here it is. We were visiting Sarah from the morning after Jim rented that cabin until the following Saturday." Jane turned the calendar to face them.
"And you don't have anyone who helps out around here?" Gina asked.
"Well, my brother Scott helps out around the store," Jane said. "Not full-time or anything, though."
"But you close the store and the cabins while you're away?"
Jane hesitated before replying. "It's too much for him to take care of the whole shop himself. So we close down when we take a vacation."
The store owner began to twine her fingers together again, Beth noticed. Talking about her brother made her nervous. Was it that he was untrustworthy or unreliable, and that's why she wouldn't leave him in charge of the store? Or was it a more complicated concern that set Jane on edge? Beth was trying to decide how to phrase the question when Jane closed both books and stored them under the counter.
"I'm sorry, but I really do have important phone calls to make. Suppliers, you know, I need to talk to them today." She wouldn't meet their eyes. "Are we about done here?"
"Yes," Gina said slowly, glancing at Beth. "We'd like to talk to Scott, though, in case he had any contact with the victims. Do you know where we can find him right now?"
"I'm not really sure." Jane's fingers knotted together yet again. "I can give him your card next time I see him, if you want."
Gina handed over her business card and thanked the woman for her time. When the two women joined the rest of the team, Gina glanced at Beth and raised her eyebrow.
"Nope, nothing," Beth agreed. "I don't think she has anything to do with it. She stopped being nervous really quickly."
"Exactly what I got," Gina said. "I don't know what she was so worried about the first time we talked, but there's nothing about her or how she talks about her husband that betrayed guilt. Very open. And genuinely shocked to think that their cabins might be involved somehow."
"What was that at the end?" Prophet asked. "Her shoulders turned in, like she was feeling defensive."
"We were asking about her younger brother," Beth explained. "There is something there, but I couldn't tell if it's an older sister who's ashamed of a less than successful brother, or if it might be something more. She said she'd have him contact us."
"Right, so, now what?" Mick asked. "Track down the brother?"
"He has a connection to the cabins, he's a potential suspect," Coop allowed. "Let's get back to the station and learn more about this brother." Just as he turned towards the door, it opened. A heavily-built man with sandy blond hair hobbled into the store, a large sack over one shoulder.
"Scott!" The store owner hurried along the counter towards the young man. "Where were you this morning? I thought you were opening the store."
Scott Andrews muttered something, his posture defensive. Beth gave the man an assessing once-over. He was limping badly, favouring his left leg. His upper body was twisted in a way that made her think of a hunchback. He wore bulky clothing and heavy boots, like a winter hiker might, but this was no hiker. When Scott reached the counter, he tossed down the sack like a pillow. Beth could make out the label from where they stood: sixty-five pounds of concrete mix. Jane said something in a low voice and her brother turned to look at the FBI agents.
Beth bit back a curse. In profile, Scott appeared handsome, with a strong jaw and thick blond hair. Face on, she could only see the silvery white scar that snaked from his hairline to his upper lip, twisting his eye socket and puckering his left cheek. It was a horrible disfigurement, and she could tell from his flat gaze that he was used to people's negative reactions.
Here was a young man who would have been handsome and active, but who clearly had been severely disfigured, who had lost his physical agility. Beth exchanged a glance with Coop, who nodded. The victim profile began to make sense. If Scott were their unsub, his victims represented everything that he used to be, everything that he had lost to whatever incident caused his injuries. He even bore more than a passing resemblance to the three men.
"He looks like a possibility. Might be why his sister was defensive," Mick said, leaning down so she could catch his quiet words. "It should probably be you who goes over."
"He won't see you as a threat," Coop's voice came from behind them. "You're the one he'll be most likely to let down his guard for."
Beth grimaced. Coop was right: if this was their unsub, she would be unlikely to spook him.
"Well, being short and plain had to have its pluses at some point. Guess today's my lucky day."
With that, she stalked over to where the suspect was speaking with his sister.
As Mick watched Beth engage the suspect in conversation, he noticed that her face changed, opening up and showing flashes of charm. She was obviously trying to put the suspect at ease. As she smiled and widened her eyes at something Scott said, Mick felt a twinge of defensiveness.
"I didn't mean it as an insult when I said she should go over there," he said, feeling the need to explain himself.
"Of course you didn't," Coop agreed. "It was an instinct, and a good one. A man would have made him feel competitive and Gina's height and confidence would have made him feel inferior and defensive. Beth is physically smaller than him and her self-deprecating attitude is often misinterpreted as low self-esteem. She appears vulnerable to him, so he'll fail to perceive her as a threat."
Mick couldn't help but stare at Coop for a moment, before turning back to keep watch on Beth.
"I don't think I'd actually thought of all - hell, any - of that. I just felt that she could get him talking better than we could." And he saw that he was right. Beth was chatting easily with the suspect and his sister.
It looked like a casual conversation, but Mick knew from Beth's posture and the way she was fiddling with her watchband that something about the man had her on edge. He knew it was ridiculous and totally counter-productive to the investigation, but he wanted to go over and put himself between her and the suspect. A hand on his arm interrupted his thoughts, and he turned his head to meet Prophet's eyes.
"He's not a threat to women," Prophet said quietly. "And Beth wouldn't appreciate it," he added, glancing down at Mick's hands, which had curled into loose fists.
Mick forcibly relaxed his stance as the other agent turned towards the door.
"C'mon, man," Prophet said, pushing Mick slightly to turn him as well. "Let's get back to the office and start digging. We can leave the rest of the interviewing to Coop and the ladies."
"Fine," Mick pretended to grumble as he followed Prophet to the door. "But I drive. You're worse than a old grandad behind the wheel."
"At least I remember to drive on the right side of the road," Prophet protested as he pushed the door open. Mick glanced back at Beth one last time. She caught his look and held his gaze for a brief moment, sending him a frown over the suspect's shoulder. Typical Beth. The suspect would think that she was putting Mick down, while Mick was well aware that that particular frown was Beth's version of a wink and a smile. Feeling mischievous, he winked in return and walked out of the store.
When Beth approached the counter, Jane moved closer to her brother. If the counter hadn't been in her way, she probably would have stepped between Scott and Beth. Scott's response to this defensive action was telling - he moved away from his sister and stood as straight as he could. Beth responded to his assertive stance by curving her shoulders as she approached, pitching her voice low and gentle.
"Scott, I'm Beth Griffiths. I'm here looking into the disappearance of three young men in the past two years. I was hoping you could help me."
Scott eyed Beth up and down before answering. As he raised his eyes to meet hers, his posture changed. He leaned against the counter and turned his head away from her so that she couldn't see his scars. His glance, as he looked at her from the corner of his eye, was almost flirtatious.
"Well, miss," he said with a smile, "I'm happy to try."
Beth schooled her face smooth, not wanting to show her reaction to his blatant manipulative behaviour. She was impressed, though, at how effective it was. She was having a hard time not responding to that bashful grin, even though she knew that Scott might be a sadistic killer. Before his accident, Scott would have been a master at controlling other people using his looks and charm.
"Well," she began, mimicking his speech patterns. "I was wondering if you ever met any of these three boys."
She passed over their photos of the victims. Scott studied each picture in turn, taking his time.
"I couldn't say," he finally said. "They all look a bit alike, and we get a lot of folk through here. I don't pay much mind to CFAs."
"To whats?" she asked, feigning ignorance.
"Come-from-aways. You know, out-of-towners. Amateurs who have more enthusiasm than skill. Idiots playing at hunters."
His voice was dripping with disdain. It could have been a general dislike, but Beth was focused on how Scott's fingers were crumpling the pictures he held. There was real anger going on here. Was it towards tourists, or towards these particular men? Something to explore in a later interview, she decided, where the environment was more contained. That much anger was safer in an interview room.
"If I can tell you when you might have seen them, would that help?" Beth decided to redirect the questions to neutral ground.
"If you give me a date, I can look it up on my computer," he said, glancing at the ceiling. "I've had a lot of appointments since my accident, so I keep a real detailed schedule. Doctors get real picky about being on time and not missing a single physio session. It's a lot to keep straight, so I set up a system."
His bragging was subtle, but Beth knew he was trying to impress her with how he had kept everything together. Scott Andrews was masking something with that bravado, though. Beth could see it in his eyes and hear it in his answers.
"That's great," she smiled up at him. "It would be really helpful to me if you could take a look at your calendar and see if anything comes to mind."
"Sure thing."
"Let me write down those dates for you," she said. She moved towards the counter and observed that Scott shifted his body to keep his scars hidden from her. He reached across the counter and grabbed a notepad and pen.
As Beth took them from him, she noticed Prophet and Mick leaving the store. Mick caught her gaze, clearly wondering about the interview. She did her best to signal that all was going well without spooking Scott. If Scott saw, he gave no sign.
"The most recent disappearance was two days ago," she said, writing. "The others were a year ago and two years ago, right around this time of year."
"I was helping out here two days ago, in the morning," Scott glanced at Jane, who nodded. "I had appointments in Nancy in the afternoon. Physio and massage. And then I came back and closed the store for Jane."
"That's right," Jane leaned in. "I wanted to go home to walk the dogs because Jim had to leave for Charlotte that afternoon. Sorry, agent, I forgot about that."
"It's alright. Not everyone is as on top of their schedule as Scott here." Beth smiled up at the man. He straightened his shoulders and all but preened under the compliment.
Beth bit back a smirk. Sometimes she wondered if her profiler background had made her too cynical in her dealings with other people, but at times like these, she was grateful for it. It allowed her to see the contempt hidden by humour, the anger masked by orderliness, and the emptiness behind the charm. She wrapped up the conversation quickly, wanting to get back to the team.
Day Two - 5:00 pm
"Pass the coffee, please," Gina asked quietly. Beth leaned to her left to snag the carafe.
"Feels almost empty. Could you pour me a cup if there's enough?" she asked as she passed it over.
"I'll just order more," Gina replied, turning to signal their need to the waiter.
"Caffeine, please," Prophet's voice came from Gina's right. Beth could see his cup bumping gently against the carafe in Gina's hand.
"Me, too," Mick glanced up from the papers he was studying.
"Not your turn. Beth and I have first dibs," Gina said as she filled her cup, and then poured the last bit of coffee into Beth's mug. "You wait for the new pot."
"Fine, But if our brilliant deductions aren't up to their usual standard because we're not firing at top speed, don't blame us," Mick said with a false huff.
Prophet laughed and picked up Gina's cup. He slurped down half the coffee before she grabbed it from his hands.
"Yuck," he made a face. "Stuff's cold. I'm waiting for that fresh pot."
Beth looked down at her cup, then stuck a finger into the liquid. Barely warm. She unscrewed the lid from the carafe and poured the coffee back in.
"Wise move," Mick commented. "Only thing worse than weak coffee is cold weak coffee."
Beth nodded absently and reached for her water glass instead. "Anything in there to explain this guy?"
"A few useful bits. He was in the National Guard up until his accident, working at the hardware store and taking online courses," Mick shuffled his papers into a neat stack. "Some notes about fighting in high school, but nothing bad enough to involve the police or disqualify him from service. Every indication of a stable home life."
"When was the accident?" Prophet asked.
"Six years ago. About two months after his parents died," Gina answered, flipping open the file she'd been reading while she ate. "He went on an evening hunt, lost the trail, and went over a twenty foot cliff. Dragged himself to the nearest hunting cabin. Lucky for him, it was in use. They strapped him to an ATV and got him to the hospital in time to save his legs."
"Saved is a relative term, though," Prophet interrupted, tapping the papers. "He's been through multiple surgeries, years of physical therapy just to regain the limited mobility we saw today. He was in a wheelchair most of the time for the first two years, it looks like."
"So what does that do to an active young man who just lost his parents?" Coop's voice came from behind Beth. The large man moved silently around the table and slid into the chair beside Mick. "Mick?"
Beth watched Mick sit straighter under Coop's questioning gaze. His eyes flicked down to the pile of files he'd been studying all through the meal, and then rose. When he met her eyes, she raised her eyebrows and frowned slightly. His lips quirked and he took a quick breath.
"Right, an active young man who lives in a small town and works for his parents. Someday he'll take over his father's store, so he's the heir apparent. His major activities are hunting and his weekends with the National Guard - so he's your typical 'running, jumping, climbing trees' kind of lad. With a lot of guns, mind." He grinned, but then his face stilled. "These could be perfectly healthy outlets for his energy but then, in the turn of a season, he loses it all - his family, his inheritance - now that his big sister's back, she's queen - and his legs."
"Which means?" Coop asked.
"It means that he's used to taking out his aggression with active, even violent, pastimes. Now he can't do any of that. He has months, years, of pain and immobility to build up anger, resentment…"
"And a personal mythology," Prophet interrupted. "This guy's medical file reads like a series of medical miracles - not only did he drag himself to help, they nearly amputated both legs, then there's lots of notes about how he was never expected to walk again. But every doctor uses words like determined, committed, dedication."
"So he threw all that energy into walking again. But once he could, he needed a new way to prove himself," Gina suggested.
"By killing people?" Coop asked.
"It's an outlet for his anger over being injured." Mick said. "And a way to prove he has power. He hasn't been able to control his body, even though he put every bit of himself into it. So he's angry and looking for another way to prove himself."
"That could explain why the victims were medium height men with fair colouring.. Around the same age Scott was when he had his accident," Beth pointed out. "They were physically fit, active, social. The victims could have been chosen because they remind him of what he's lost."
"How does he do it, then?" Coop was pushing at the weak spots in their theory.
The team exchanged glances. Silence fell for a few moments, until Beth couldn't stand it.
"We know he has access to the cabins, and he had access to the victims. He told me that he checks on the cabins every couple days, even runs out supplies on that special ATV of his."
"Right, but how did he kill them?"
"C'mon, even the medical examiner couldn't figure that out," Mick protested. "It could be poison, it could be a gut shot for a slow miserable death, it could be any of a hundred invisible methods that we can't find on bones."
"True," Coop acknowledged. "But how do we explain the broken bones? He might be able to walk, but he couldn't fight a healthy man."
"Could he have drugged them, restrained them before the beating? Hunters know their way around tranquilizers and trussing up animals." Mick suggested. "Breaks that bad, left untreated, can be deadly from the resulting internal bleeding and infection."
"All right," Coop nodded. "I think he's more than worth a look. I'll have Sheriff James send a deputy to pick him up. Get your coffees to go and we'll have a talk with Scott down at the station."
Day Two - 6:00 pm
An hour later, the team was back at the hardware store. The local police hadn't counted on Scott owning a police scanner, so when the word went out that they were looking to pick him up for questioning he had barricaded himself inside.
"Well, the good news is that we know Jane closed the store before all this, so he doesn't have any hostages. On the other hand, do we have any idea what kind of weapons he's got?" Prophet asked Sheriff James.
"This is hunting country. I know he owns a couple of rifles and a shotgun," the Sheriff speculated. "I'll go check on what else he has registered."
The LEO ambled away far too slowly for Mick's taste. They were trying to secure a location with too many exits. The apartment had a side entry, a fire escape, and a door into the store itself. The store also had three exits, and with the low sun bouncing off the windows, there was no way to tell if the unsub had moved from the apartment to the store or not.
James returned carrying two printed pages. Beth took them from him and glanced over the contents. Her eyes widened and she handed the papers to Mick.
"Well, he has six handguns," he reported, "ranging in size from 'easy to conceal personal defense' to 'ready to deploy to a warzone,' as well as four rifles that you'd only use for hunting if your goal was the obliteration of the animal in question. Clearly, he's not in it for the pelts or meat. Bless you Americans and your gun laws. Back home, he'd have a harder time building this collection, but we'd probably never know it existed."
Beth broke in. "But with a 'collection' like this, there's a good chance that he has illegal weapons, too."
Sheriff James, who'd developed a habit of hanging on Beth's every word, asked "How would he do that? We're not exactly a big town and Scott doesn't get out of Collinsburg much. I can't think how he'd get his hands on any illegal weapons."
Beth smiled up at the looming LEO, a wide, friendly smile that made Mick stare.
"That's as may be." Mick blinked. Beth never spoke yokel. She left that to Gina and Prophet, the charming chameleons of their little band. "But now we know at least some of the firepower he's got, we'd better adjust the lines. Pull the barricades back…" she glanced questioningly at Mick.
"At least ten metres - that's eleven yards, to you yanks," he teased with a wink. "It won't help with the rifles, but if all he's got is the handguns, his accuracy might be compromised. That and staying behind the cars will do for now."
Beth nodded her agreement. "We can talk infiltration points as soon as you get us that heat scope Mick asked for when we got here."
Mick glared pointedly to reinforce her subtle prodding. The Sheriff tried to match his gaze, but quickly broke off and strode over to his men.
"Can't think how he'd get illegal weapons?" Beth laughed as she shared a look with Gina. "How cute is that?" The two women smiled as they watched Sheriff James direct his men.
Cute? Mick's eyebrows shot up.
"Cute, huh?" Prophet's incredulous voice matched Mick's train of thought. "You two going to take him home and have tea parties?"
Gina laughed and bumped him in the arm. It was a subtle, personal gesture, one that Mick realized they exchanged frequently.
"Nah," Beth said with a smile. "I thought I'd sweep him off his feet and take him away from this one-horse-town." Mick could feel his eyes widening. Beth actually wanted this guy? "And then I'd drop him in the middle of an L.A. barrio to see how long Mr. Aw Shucks, Wide-Eyed Innocent lasts."
Mick joined in the others' laughter, his chuckles tinged with relief. Much better to have prickly, blood-thirsty Beth than that weird girly creature she'd briefly turned into.
"Anyway, I suppose we should be glad he doesn't have the apartment over the gun store," Beth muttered, bouncing on her toes beside Mick.
"Yeah, cause I can't think of any way to turn power tools, chemicals, and hardware into weapons," he responded sarcastically. He wished that she would calm down; her nervous energy was contagious. He also wished that he could just pull out his rifle with its thermal scope. Coop had vetoed that idea, though. They needed the unsub alive if they were going to have a chance of finding the third victim, and 7.62mm Russian rounds caused enough damage even when Mick wasn't shooting to kill. The hours of surgery and recovery involved were hours that their victim might not have.
"Well, not everyone took the '101 ways to kill using a paint stir stick and duct tape' lessons like you. This guy's a hunter who spent a couple dozen weekends drilling with the National Guard. He probably thinks that fertilizer is for fields and nails are for walls. Nothing in his history shows any hint of militia connections or training in explosives."
Beth resumed her fidgety movements as soon as she finished speaking. Without thinking, Mick reached out and rested a hand on her upper back, rubbing small circles with his palm the way he used to soothe Jenna when she was wound up or upset. Beth stilled and stared up at him.
"What?" she demanded, her eyes darting from his arm to his face. Mick pulled his hand back quickly.
"Sorry," he stuttered slightly. "The bouncing. You were fidgeting. It was like that clock all over again."
She stared at him as though he'd sprouted horns, and then comprehension dawned.
"Getting on your nerves, was it?" She grinned at him. "You could just tell me to stop, y'know."
Mick felt his cheeks flush slightly. He was hardly going to admit that his instinct was to calm her, so he matched her grin for grin.
"I could tell you to stop," he mused, "but given how often you actually listen to other people, I felt a more direct approach was called for."
Beth's eyebrows went up into what Gina called her 'fighting face' but Mick was saved from whatever she cutting insult was planning by Coop's call for the team to gather around the command table.
Day Two - 7:00 pm
Beth shifted from foot to foot. It was partly to keep warm and partly because she was feeling antsy. She shuffled through her files one more time. There was nothing new to be found, but at least the activity kept her conscious mind distracted. While her hands were busy, her subconscious was free to make connections. Not that any seemed to be falling into place right now.
"Agent Griffiths?" It was Sheriff James, doffing his hat and ducking his head. Seriously, she thought, the man was a walking cliché. Adorable, but also slightly creepy. "This is Doctor Fanster. He's Scott's primary physician at the hospital in Nancy. I thought you might want to talk to him face to face, so I had Jerry drive him over. And this is Sarah Dancy, his clinic nurse. She agreed to come speak with you as well.
"Doctor Fanster, this is for you," Sherriff James continued, handing over a folder of paperwork. "I got Judge Reynolds to expedite a HIPPA-waiver court order so that you can legally talk to us about Scott. It covers his appointment schedule, treatment, surgical and medication history, and all information on referrals to other physicians or medical professionals. After that, Tim says you're to use your discretion. Same applies to you, Nurse Dancy."
Okay, Sheriff James was more than just a cliché, Beth had to admit. They had reached out to the local GP, but this doctor would have much more insight into the injury's effects on Scott's psyche. The Sheriff had been correct in assuming that being able to speak with the doctor in person was an advantage. The court order would allow the physician to discuss specific topics, but he would also reveal useful information through facial or physical responses. And bringing the nurse really raised the Sheriff in Beth's esteem. She would have seen Scott as his most vulnerable times and could speak to his interactions with other patients.
"Doctor Fanster. Ms Dancy," Beth shook hands with the pair. "Thank you so much for coming all this way tonight. As you can see, we're working under pressure, so I apologize if we rush through things."
Beth gestured over her shoulder at the barricade that was forming. Prophet and Mick were overseeing the placement of police vehicles in a carefully spaced perimeter around the hardware store. Gina was working the phones, coordinating the arrival of the extra officers from other counties who were coming to assist in the search. Coop stood with Jane Andrews, who seemed to be in a state of shocked numbness.
"Doctor Fanster, how long have you been treating Scott?" Beth decided to start with the easy questions, hoping that a few minutes in the tense environment would loosen the doctor's tongue.
"I took over Scott's case once he transitioned into out-patient care. That would be a little over four years ago." The doctor glanced at his nurse, who nodded. Clearly, a team act, these two.
"And for the past two years, how often have you seen Scott?"
"Scott has had a monthly check in with us for the past year," the nurse replied. "He also comes into the clinic every five or six days for physio and massage on his legs and back. That used to be more often, but his strength and flexibility have improved to the point where he could cut back."
"His recovery has been remarkable," Doctor Fanster said with a nod. "Scott is the most determined, dedicated patient I have ever worked with. He drives himself so hard, and it has produced incredible results."
"This drive," Beth asked, "how does it affect his relationship with other people? Is he easy to work with as a patient?"
The pair exchanged glances. After a moment, the doctor answered.
"He's a model patient. He comes to his appointments on time, he does all his extra sessions, is religious about his medication and exercises." When he finished speaking, he closed his lips tightly.
Beth waited expectantly. The doctor was holding back, but the nurse wasn't as shy.
"He's a nightmare in the waiting room." Sarah Dancy bit her lip. "I mean, it's great that he's punctual, but he goes crazy if he has to wait because someone else is late. Or if the doctor is called over the hospital for an emergency and we have to reschedule. Anything upsets his appointment and I get a real earful."
"So he resents other patients taking up his time?"
"Oh yes. He really doesn't have much time for the other patients," the nurse raised her eyebrows. "I know that his injuries are some of the worst we've dealt with, but he acts like he's the only patient that matters. Like we exist just for him."
"Does he resent healthy people?" Beth asked "It's not uncommon in someone who has been severely injured the way Scott was. He might turn his anger about his injury onto others ."
Nurse Dancy laughed. "You wouldn't think Scott was angry about his legs, to hear him joke about them. But I think you're right. He sure freaks out when other people talk about his limp or his scar."
"Sarah, that's hardly to the point," Doctor Fanster said mildly. "Anyone would resent it if someone made jokes about injuries that severe."
"I'm not talking about jokes, George. His last appointment, he yelled at Mrs. Arthurs because she commented that the damp weather must be why he was limping worse than usual. She was just being sympathetic. Anyway, all the staff know that you only talk about his legs if he brings it up first."
Beth wrapped up the interview quickly after that, asking the Sheriff to work with Sarah Dancy to confirm Scott's appointment schedule. She made her way over to the command table, where Coop was conferring with Mick. Beth knew that Coop would need the information provided by the medical personnel. His intention was to try to draw their unsub out through talk, at least until the search teams located Matthew House.
Once Matthew was located - Coop was certain he would be located soon - Coop would try to provoke Scott into exiting the building for a take-down. And failing that…
"I'll take the shot from the barricades, yeah?" Mick asked.
"I think so," Coop said. "For now, no need for a long distance solution. Let's keep this close and controlled. You'll be primary, but I may need to pull you out to consult on the search, so pick a short-range position that anyone firearms proficiency can handle. "
Beth watched Mick's shoulders tense up as Coop walked away. She could see him assessing the barricade for good positions. It didn't look good, with the evening sun reflecting off the store windows. But she knew that wasn't the only reason he was tense. Mick might be an experienced sniper, but he had joked bitterly about his role as their 'official executioner' in past.
"Ready for an exciting evening of staring at a blank wall of glass?" Beth asked, punching him in the arm.
Mick laughed lightly. "Playing guess the target? It's an old favourite of mine."
"Hey, once we get that heat scope hooked up to a monitor, we can tag team it. I'll be your eyes," she offered.
"So that makes me the hands?" he asked.
"Seems appropriate," Beth smirked at him.
"Best hands in the business," Mick teased with a charming grin. Beth rolled her eyes and walked away.
Part Three
Fandom: Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior
Rating: PG-13 (violence, mature language)
Words: 8,015/24,442
Summary/Notes: See Part One
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior or its characters - those belong to CBS. I am merely playing and will put them back when I'm done.
Day Two - 11:45 am
"So what was up with Mick?" Gina asked under her breath. She was leaning over Beth's shoulder, supposedly examining the map on the laptop.
"How do you mean?" Beth said absently, tapping in coordinates. Gina and Prophet had returned with lists of unregistered hunting cabins to be entered into the geo-profile.
"Way I heard it, he was on his knees, proposal-style. What brought that on?" Gina's voice was teasing, but Beth heard genuine interest. It made her fingers stumble over the keys.
"I make a point of not trying to figure out that man. I don't want to know what's going on in that scruffy head of his."
"Sure, Beth. Which is why you just placed that last cabin in the Carolinas."
Beth cursed and pulled up the cabin's entry to correct the coordinates. "Go away, Gina. Let me finish this."
"Fine, but we're finishing this conversation later." Gina patted her on the shoulder as she straightened up and walked away.
Beth turned her entire focus to the mapping program and quickly finished the entries. A few more clicks and the profile was displayed on the screen. The pattern would have been obvious to a five-year-old.
"Coop," she called. "I've got something."
The team hurried over to huddle around the computer. The Sheriff crowded in with them, asking "what's all that?"
" 'That' is a map of all the significant locations in the activities of the past two victims, with an overlay of all the hunting cabins that we could find coordinates for." Beth clicked on three points, then used the mouse to draw a circle encompassing them. "And this set of cabins is at the heart of it all."
"Those are all right by Hart's Bluff," Sheriff James observed. "Pretty out of the way. Very rugged country. A lot of tourists get hurt at the Bluff. Maybe this has something to do with an out-of-towner." There was hope in his tone that made Beth wince.
"These are the acts of a local resident, Sheriff," Coop said in his deep, calm voice. "They required knowledge of the woods, of the cabins. There is a killer at work here, and he or she is a member of your community."
Sheriff James rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. "I just can't believe that anyone in this town could do these things you're talking about."
Coop nodded slowly, and stepped around Beth to pull out a chair. "The patterns that we're seeing are too strong for coincidence. The damage to the bodies is too consistent - the broken legs, the dozens of smaller bones showing fractures, the two or three days of healing."
"But I know these folks," the Sheriff protested. "I grew up alongside them. There isn't one of them could do what you're saying this person is doing."
"I think we can assume that this unsub doesn't draw attention to himself through his behaviour. It's more common than you would think."
Sheriff James sighed heavily as he sat in the chair next to Coop's. "Then how are we going to find him?"
Coop looked up at Gina, who was standing at their victim board. She glanced at the board briefly and then sat beside Sheriff James.
"We're looking for someone with a lot of aggression. The broken bones, the healing period, the isolation: all of these point to a drive to violence. But we have to balance that against the fact that our killer has the social skills to isolate the victims, meaning he doesn't come across as a threat on short acquaintance."
Prophet walked around the conference table to sit on Beth's left. "We believe that this person is acting out his negative feelings towards young, fit, charming blond men over and over again. It's probable that this is a conscious choice, a specific person that the unsub wants to punish, rather than an irrational urge. The regular intervals between the abductions, the isolated body sites, and the choice of unnoticed victims all indicate that the unsub is intelligent and organized, capable of planning and patience."
Coop picked up the thread.
"We have to consider that with this unsub, death is not the final goal. Think about the injuries, the delay before death. It could be that killing these men is not the unsub's motivation. He has a plan, a ritual perhaps, that has to be acted out. Death is a side-effect of whatever he's doing to the victims."
"Like torture," Beth said, shaking her head. "In a remote hunting cabin in the woods. Horror movie in real life."
"I think so, yes," Coop agreed. He pushed himself up from his chair, and waited while everyone else did the same. "I think we can give you a rough profile now, Sheriff. Prophet?"
"We're looking for a male, aged twenty-five to thirty-five. Given the demographics of this town, he's white and employed in a job that puts him in contact with tourists on a regular basis."
"He's got a lot of experience with the woods," Mick added. "As a hunter or a hiker, maybe even a guide."
"And he's someone that our out-of-town victims are going to talk to, probably even trust in their vehicles," Gina put in. "He's intelligent, social, unthreatening. If he's taking the victims on without sedation, he's going to be strong, physically fit. If he's using drugs and restraints to subdue the victims, that's not necessarily the case."
"We can assume he's driven by something very negative: anger, resentment," Beth added. "He may have had a violent trauma involving a young man who looked like our victims. He may have acted out violently in the past, possibly in incidents involving blond men. And we should watch for something that happened a little over two years ago that tipped him into kidnapping and torture."
"The most important thing we know, though, is that his victims don't die right away," Coop to a step towards the Sheriff. "Which means that Matthew may still be alive for us to find. He's out there in those woods, and I think that Hart's Bluff may be an important part of this. Let's track down the owners of those cabins.''
Day Two - 1:30 pm
"They're owned by a husband and wife," Gina reported an hour later as she and Prophet walked into the conference room. "She rented a cabin to victim number one."
"And her husband rented cabins to victims two and three," Prophet continued, dropping into a chair. "But this is an under the table operation. They don't keep very good records of who rents the cabins, so she didn't even know it until we had her check with him. He's out of town visiting a sister in hospital. He hadn't heard about the search for the latest victim."
"What do we know about them?" Coop asked.
Mick spoke from where he sat beside Beth, a folder in his hands. "Jim Sizemore, thirty two. He's not local. He grew up in Charlotte, both parents and his sister still live there. He has trade training as a carpenter. Married Jane Andrews eight years ago. Moved here two years later to take over the wife's family's hardware store. He has a small side business in custom cabinetry. He's went to Charlotte to see his sister hours after he rented the cabin to Matthew."
"Anything else?"
"Nope. Doesn't have a record - not even a traffic violation - or a firearm permit. Never owned a gun, at least not legally."
"What about a hunting license?" Beth asked.
"Nah. Which makes him a weird one in this town," Mick observed.
Sheriff James chuckled. "That's right. Jim can't look at a dead deer without gagging. Doesn't say no to the venison once it's cooked, but he's a city boy when it came to dead animals."
"So he probably doesn't spend much time in the woods."
"Not much," the Sheriff agreed. "Jim's a weekend hiker at best, needs one of those GPS things to stay on the trail."
"Any chance he could be our unsub?" Coop asked.
Mick thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Unlikely. I don't see it in his background and I can't believe this unsub would kidnap a person and then leave town immediately. The timing's all wrong."
"Alright," Coop said, "let's put Jim aside for the moment. What can you tell me about Jane?"
Beth leaned forward in her chair and picked up her tablet. She felt the attention of the team focus on her.
"Jane Sizemore, nee Andrews, thirty. Born locally, both parents died in a car accident six years ago. One younger brother, Scott, twenty-seven. Went to school in Charlotte to get a diploma in business studies, met Jim and got married. Moved back to town when her parents died, to take over the hardware store. She also has a clean record, but she has a hunting license and owns two long-guns - a rifle and a shotgun."
"That's right," Sheriff James chimed in. "Jane always bags the Christmas birds for her family and a few other folks. Never known her to take a deer though."
"Any chance she could be our unsub?"
"Nothing in her history shows any violent behaviour," Beth said after a moment. "I've got Garcia checking into the backgrounds more deeply just in case there's anything else."
"Anything from the interviews catch your attention?" Coop asked, turning to Gina and Prophet.
"No, nothing," Prophet answered. "He's still at his sister's place, so I could only reach him by phone, but his voice didn't have any unusual stressors - just surprise and shock. He did ask about his wife quite frequently. I'd need to see them together to judge if he's the jealous type or just worried about her."
"She was definitely worried, but I couldn't read what it was about," Gina picked up the story. "It wasn't guilt, but I think it's worth talking to her again, and seeing what Garcia digs up."
"Let's all go," Coop suggested. "Get out of this office, get a feel for the town."
"Maybe pick up some lunch while we're at it," Beth suggested, standing up and closing her laptop.
"And coffee," Mick added in a low voice as they gathered their things. "The brew here could strip paint."
Beth huffed a laugh. "How can you tell through all that sugar and creamer?"
"Why do you think I add it, yeah? Anything to make the caffeine drinkable."
"Ah, addiction," she teased.
"Everyone has to have one vice," Mick protested as he shrugged into his coat.
"Somehow I doubt you stopped at one," Beth shot back as she pulled her jacket on. Mick glared at her, but before he could respond, Coop cut them off.
"You two coming?" He was barely hiding a grin.
They exchanged guilty glances and followed him from the room.
Day Two - 2:30 pm
After a quick lunch at the local family restaurant, the team made their way down the main street. Beth used the walk to take a reading on the character of the town. She noticed Prophet examining the various posters and signs along the street, and Mick appeared to be assessing the rooflines.
Gina confidently lead the way into Andrews Hardware and engaged the woman behind the counter in conversation. Beth held back a little, watching for physical cues. After an exchange of pleasantries, Gina started the interview.
"So you manage three cabins, is that right?"
"Yes." Jane's answer was reluctant, and Beth saw definite signs of nervous behaviour. "Are we in some kind of trouble?"
"Off-books hunting cabins aren't our concern," Gina said with a small smile. "We're looking into those tourists who turned up dead in the woods near Hart's Bluff."
"I told you about them earlier," Jane said. "I haven't remembered anything since then. I'm sorry, but I have calls I need to make. Will this take long?"
"We know that they stayed in your cabins," Beth interrupted, forcing Jane to look away from Gina. "We need to know everything you can tell us about their stay in the woods."
"I'm sorry, I don't know how I can help you." Jane Andrews twisted her fingers together. "I only spoke to the one boy. It was two years ago."
"To start with, can you tell me the details of the boys' reservations. You arranged the first one, your husband the other two, is that correct?"
"Yes," Jane said, nodding emphatically. She separated her hands and walked around the counter. She reached under and pulled out a spiral bound notebook. "I've got the dates right here."
Beth and Gina leaned over the counter as Jane flipped through the book. The first page she turned to had Travis Martin's name written in a loopy cursive with the notes 'Cabin 2' and 'Thurs nite' beside it. Gina pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture. Jane then turned a few dozen pages to find a line with Dennis Chapel's name, with 'Cabin 1' and 'Friday night' noted in a messy scrawl. Again, Gina took a photo.
"And Matthew House?" Beth asked. "He booked a night?"
"Day before yesterday," Jane answered. "Right here." She used a bookmark to turn to the entry, which was written in the same untidy handwriting as Dennis Chapel's name.
"You husband said that he just wanted the cabin for the night?" Gina asked. "He'd been camping up until then."
"Yes. It's been down around freezing this week, so I guess he wanted something more comfortable than a tent."
"And what about checkout? Weren't you a little concerned when he didn't get the keys back to you yesterday?"
Jane chuckled lightly. "We're not a hotel. I just keep the keys in a locked mailbox on the back door. They drop 'em off when they leave, I take them out when I have a chance to go check on the state of the cabin."
"State of the cabin?" Gina raised an eyebrow. "So you go up there to change the sheets, clean up?"
"These are hunting cabins, ma'am. It's bring your own everything. I'm not providing turn-down service. All I do is check that the place isn't covered in animal guts."
Beth smothered a laugh at the flash of disgust on Gina's face. "But you don't do that right after they leave?" she asked.
"Depends," Jane said. "If the person isn't a hunter, I don't rush up there to check. I don't see a note about these boys hunting. Anyway, with Jim out of town, I have to stay at the store."
"What about last year?" Beth turned the makeshift ledger so she could flip through the pages. "There's a bit of a gap after Dennis Chapel's reservation. Do you remember anything about the cabin from then?"
Jane looked down at the ledger. "Only time we aren't renting the cabins in season is if we're out of town. I think that's the week we went to Charlotte to visit Jim's family. Let me check the store records."
She turned and hurried to the back room before Beth and Gina could speak.
"What do you think?" Gina turned to Beth.
"I think she's relaxing. She's more than happy to talk about the cabins and the victims. I'm not seeing anything to worry about."
They broke off as Jane pushed through the door, a daybook in her hands.
"Here it is. We were visiting Sarah from the morning after Jim rented that cabin until the following Saturday." Jane turned the calendar to face them.
"And you don't have anyone who helps out around here?" Gina asked.
"Well, my brother Scott helps out around the store," Jane said. "Not full-time or anything, though."
"But you close the store and the cabins while you're away?"
Jane hesitated before replying. "It's too much for him to take care of the whole shop himself. So we close down when we take a vacation."
The store owner began to twine her fingers together again, Beth noticed. Talking about her brother made her nervous. Was it that he was untrustworthy or unreliable, and that's why she wouldn't leave him in charge of the store? Or was it a more complicated concern that set Jane on edge? Beth was trying to decide how to phrase the question when Jane closed both books and stored them under the counter.
"I'm sorry, but I really do have important phone calls to make. Suppliers, you know, I need to talk to them today." She wouldn't meet their eyes. "Are we about done here?"
"Yes," Gina said slowly, glancing at Beth. "We'd like to talk to Scott, though, in case he had any contact with the victims. Do you know where we can find him right now?"
"I'm not really sure." Jane's fingers knotted together yet again. "I can give him your card next time I see him, if you want."
Gina handed over her business card and thanked the woman for her time. When the two women joined the rest of the team, Gina glanced at Beth and raised her eyebrow.
"Nope, nothing," Beth agreed. "I don't think she has anything to do with it. She stopped being nervous really quickly."
"Exactly what I got," Gina said. "I don't know what she was so worried about the first time we talked, but there's nothing about her or how she talks about her husband that betrayed guilt. Very open. And genuinely shocked to think that their cabins might be involved somehow."
"What was that at the end?" Prophet asked. "Her shoulders turned in, like she was feeling defensive."
"We were asking about her younger brother," Beth explained. "There is something there, but I couldn't tell if it's an older sister who's ashamed of a less than successful brother, or if it might be something more. She said she'd have him contact us."
"Right, so, now what?" Mick asked. "Track down the brother?"
"He has a connection to the cabins, he's a potential suspect," Coop allowed. "Let's get back to the station and learn more about this brother." Just as he turned towards the door, it opened. A heavily-built man with sandy blond hair hobbled into the store, a large sack over one shoulder.
"Scott!" The store owner hurried along the counter towards the young man. "Where were you this morning? I thought you were opening the store."
Scott Andrews muttered something, his posture defensive. Beth gave the man an assessing once-over. He was limping badly, favouring his left leg. His upper body was twisted in a way that made her think of a hunchback. He wore bulky clothing and heavy boots, like a winter hiker might, but this was no hiker. When Scott reached the counter, he tossed down the sack like a pillow. Beth could make out the label from where they stood: sixty-five pounds of concrete mix. Jane said something in a low voice and her brother turned to look at the FBI agents.
Beth bit back a curse. In profile, Scott appeared handsome, with a strong jaw and thick blond hair. Face on, she could only see the silvery white scar that snaked from his hairline to his upper lip, twisting his eye socket and puckering his left cheek. It was a horrible disfigurement, and she could tell from his flat gaze that he was used to people's negative reactions.
Here was a young man who would have been handsome and active, but who clearly had been severely disfigured, who had lost his physical agility. Beth exchanged a glance with Coop, who nodded. The victim profile began to make sense. If Scott were their unsub, his victims represented everything that he used to be, everything that he had lost to whatever incident caused his injuries. He even bore more than a passing resemblance to the three men.
"He looks like a possibility. Might be why his sister was defensive," Mick said, leaning down so she could catch his quiet words. "It should probably be you who goes over."
"He won't see you as a threat," Coop's voice came from behind them. "You're the one he'll be most likely to let down his guard for."
Beth grimaced. Coop was right: if this was their unsub, she would be unlikely to spook him.
"Well, being short and plain had to have its pluses at some point. Guess today's my lucky day."
With that, she stalked over to where the suspect was speaking with his sister.
As Mick watched Beth engage the suspect in conversation, he noticed that her face changed, opening up and showing flashes of charm. She was obviously trying to put the suspect at ease. As she smiled and widened her eyes at something Scott said, Mick felt a twinge of defensiveness.
"I didn't mean it as an insult when I said she should go over there," he said, feeling the need to explain himself.
"Of course you didn't," Coop agreed. "It was an instinct, and a good one. A man would have made him feel competitive and Gina's height and confidence would have made him feel inferior and defensive. Beth is physically smaller than him and her self-deprecating attitude is often misinterpreted as low self-esteem. She appears vulnerable to him, so he'll fail to perceive her as a threat."
Mick couldn't help but stare at Coop for a moment, before turning back to keep watch on Beth.
"I don't think I'd actually thought of all - hell, any - of that. I just felt that she could get him talking better than we could." And he saw that he was right. Beth was chatting easily with the suspect and his sister.
It looked like a casual conversation, but Mick knew from Beth's posture and the way she was fiddling with her watchband that something about the man had her on edge. He knew it was ridiculous and totally counter-productive to the investigation, but he wanted to go over and put himself between her and the suspect. A hand on his arm interrupted his thoughts, and he turned his head to meet Prophet's eyes.
"He's not a threat to women," Prophet said quietly. "And Beth wouldn't appreciate it," he added, glancing down at Mick's hands, which had curled into loose fists.
Mick forcibly relaxed his stance as the other agent turned towards the door.
"C'mon, man," Prophet said, pushing Mick slightly to turn him as well. "Let's get back to the office and start digging. We can leave the rest of the interviewing to Coop and the ladies."
"Fine," Mick pretended to grumble as he followed Prophet to the door. "But I drive. You're worse than a old grandad behind the wheel."
"At least I remember to drive on the right side of the road," Prophet protested as he pushed the door open. Mick glanced back at Beth one last time. She caught his look and held his gaze for a brief moment, sending him a frown over the suspect's shoulder. Typical Beth. The suspect would think that she was putting Mick down, while Mick was well aware that that particular frown was Beth's version of a wink and a smile. Feeling mischievous, he winked in return and walked out of the store.
When Beth approached the counter, Jane moved closer to her brother. If the counter hadn't been in her way, she probably would have stepped between Scott and Beth. Scott's response to this defensive action was telling - he moved away from his sister and stood as straight as he could. Beth responded to his assertive stance by curving her shoulders as she approached, pitching her voice low and gentle.
"Scott, I'm Beth Griffiths. I'm here looking into the disappearance of three young men in the past two years. I was hoping you could help me."
Scott eyed Beth up and down before answering. As he raised his eyes to meet hers, his posture changed. He leaned against the counter and turned his head away from her so that she couldn't see his scars. His glance, as he looked at her from the corner of his eye, was almost flirtatious.
"Well, miss," he said with a smile, "I'm happy to try."
Beth schooled her face smooth, not wanting to show her reaction to his blatant manipulative behaviour. She was impressed, though, at how effective it was. She was having a hard time not responding to that bashful grin, even though she knew that Scott might be a sadistic killer. Before his accident, Scott would have been a master at controlling other people using his looks and charm.
"Well," she began, mimicking his speech patterns. "I was wondering if you ever met any of these three boys."
She passed over their photos of the victims. Scott studied each picture in turn, taking his time.
"I couldn't say," he finally said. "They all look a bit alike, and we get a lot of folk through here. I don't pay much mind to CFAs."
"To whats?" she asked, feigning ignorance.
"Come-from-aways. You know, out-of-towners. Amateurs who have more enthusiasm than skill. Idiots playing at hunters."
His voice was dripping with disdain. It could have been a general dislike, but Beth was focused on how Scott's fingers were crumpling the pictures he held. There was real anger going on here. Was it towards tourists, or towards these particular men? Something to explore in a later interview, she decided, where the environment was more contained. That much anger was safer in an interview room.
"If I can tell you when you might have seen them, would that help?" Beth decided to redirect the questions to neutral ground.
"If you give me a date, I can look it up on my computer," he said, glancing at the ceiling. "I've had a lot of appointments since my accident, so I keep a real detailed schedule. Doctors get real picky about being on time and not missing a single physio session. It's a lot to keep straight, so I set up a system."
His bragging was subtle, but Beth knew he was trying to impress her with how he had kept everything together. Scott Andrews was masking something with that bravado, though. Beth could see it in his eyes and hear it in his answers.
"That's great," she smiled up at him. "It would be really helpful to me if you could take a look at your calendar and see if anything comes to mind."
"Sure thing."
"Let me write down those dates for you," she said. She moved towards the counter and observed that Scott shifted his body to keep his scars hidden from her. He reached across the counter and grabbed a notepad and pen.
As Beth took them from him, she noticed Prophet and Mick leaving the store. Mick caught her gaze, clearly wondering about the interview. She did her best to signal that all was going well without spooking Scott. If Scott saw, he gave no sign.
"The most recent disappearance was two days ago," she said, writing. "The others were a year ago and two years ago, right around this time of year."
"I was helping out here two days ago, in the morning," Scott glanced at Jane, who nodded. "I had appointments in Nancy in the afternoon. Physio and massage. And then I came back and closed the store for Jane."
"That's right," Jane leaned in. "I wanted to go home to walk the dogs because Jim had to leave for Charlotte that afternoon. Sorry, agent, I forgot about that."
"It's alright. Not everyone is as on top of their schedule as Scott here." Beth smiled up at the man. He straightened his shoulders and all but preened under the compliment.
Beth bit back a smirk. Sometimes she wondered if her profiler background had made her too cynical in her dealings with other people, but at times like these, she was grateful for it. It allowed her to see the contempt hidden by humour, the anger masked by orderliness, and the emptiness behind the charm. She wrapped up the conversation quickly, wanting to get back to the team.
Day Two - 5:00 pm
"Pass the coffee, please," Gina asked quietly. Beth leaned to her left to snag the carafe.
"Feels almost empty. Could you pour me a cup if there's enough?" she asked as she passed it over.
"I'll just order more," Gina replied, turning to signal their need to the waiter.
"Caffeine, please," Prophet's voice came from Gina's right. Beth could see his cup bumping gently against the carafe in Gina's hand.
"Me, too," Mick glanced up from the papers he was studying.
"Not your turn. Beth and I have first dibs," Gina said as she filled her cup, and then poured the last bit of coffee into Beth's mug. "You wait for the new pot."
"Fine, But if our brilliant deductions aren't up to their usual standard because we're not firing at top speed, don't blame us," Mick said with a false huff.
Prophet laughed and picked up Gina's cup. He slurped down half the coffee before she grabbed it from his hands.
"Yuck," he made a face. "Stuff's cold. I'm waiting for that fresh pot."
Beth looked down at her cup, then stuck a finger into the liquid. Barely warm. She unscrewed the lid from the carafe and poured the coffee back in.
"Wise move," Mick commented. "Only thing worse than weak coffee is cold weak coffee."
Beth nodded absently and reached for her water glass instead. "Anything in there to explain this guy?"
"A few useful bits. He was in the National Guard up until his accident, working at the hardware store and taking online courses," Mick shuffled his papers into a neat stack. "Some notes about fighting in high school, but nothing bad enough to involve the police or disqualify him from service. Every indication of a stable home life."
"When was the accident?" Prophet asked.
"Six years ago. About two months after his parents died," Gina answered, flipping open the file she'd been reading while she ate. "He went on an evening hunt, lost the trail, and went over a twenty foot cliff. Dragged himself to the nearest hunting cabin. Lucky for him, it was in use. They strapped him to an ATV and got him to the hospital in time to save his legs."
"Saved is a relative term, though," Prophet interrupted, tapping the papers. "He's been through multiple surgeries, years of physical therapy just to regain the limited mobility we saw today. He was in a wheelchair most of the time for the first two years, it looks like."
"So what does that do to an active young man who just lost his parents?" Coop's voice came from behind Beth. The large man moved silently around the table and slid into the chair beside Mick. "Mick?"
Beth watched Mick sit straighter under Coop's questioning gaze. His eyes flicked down to the pile of files he'd been studying all through the meal, and then rose. When he met her eyes, she raised her eyebrows and frowned slightly. His lips quirked and he took a quick breath.
"Right, an active young man who lives in a small town and works for his parents. Someday he'll take over his father's store, so he's the heir apparent. His major activities are hunting and his weekends with the National Guard - so he's your typical 'running, jumping, climbing trees' kind of lad. With a lot of guns, mind." He grinned, but then his face stilled. "These could be perfectly healthy outlets for his energy but then, in the turn of a season, he loses it all - his family, his inheritance - now that his big sister's back, she's queen - and his legs."
"Which means?" Coop asked.
"It means that he's used to taking out his aggression with active, even violent, pastimes. Now he can't do any of that. He has months, years, of pain and immobility to build up anger, resentment…"
"And a personal mythology," Prophet interrupted. "This guy's medical file reads like a series of medical miracles - not only did he drag himself to help, they nearly amputated both legs, then there's lots of notes about how he was never expected to walk again. But every doctor uses words like determined, committed, dedication."
"So he threw all that energy into walking again. But once he could, he needed a new way to prove himself," Gina suggested.
"By killing people?" Coop asked.
"It's an outlet for his anger over being injured." Mick said. "And a way to prove he has power. He hasn't been able to control his body, even though he put every bit of himself into it. So he's angry and looking for another way to prove himself."
"That could explain why the victims were medium height men with fair colouring.. Around the same age Scott was when he had his accident," Beth pointed out. "They were physically fit, active, social. The victims could have been chosen because they remind him of what he's lost."
"How does he do it, then?" Coop was pushing at the weak spots in their theory.
The team exchanged glances. Silence fell for a few moments, until Beth couldn't stand it.
"We know he has access to the cabins, and he had access to the victims. He told me that he checks on the cabins every couple days, even runs out supplies on that special ATV of his."
"Right, but how did he kill them?"
"C'mon, even the medical examiner couldn't figure that out," Mick protested. "It could be poison, it could be a gut shot for a slow miserable death, it could be any of a hundred invisible methods that we can't find on bones."
"True," Coop acknowledged. "But how do we explain the broken bones? He might be able to walk, but he couldn't fight a healthy man."
"Could he have drugged them, restrained them before the beating? Hunters know their way around tranquilizers and trussing up animals." Mick suggested. "Breaks that bad, left untreated, can be deadly from the resulting internal bleeding and infection."
"All right," Coop nodded. "I think he's more than worth a look. I'll have Sheriff James send a deputy to pick him up. Get your coffees to go and we'll have a talk with Scott down at the station."
Day Two - 6:00 pm
An hour later, the team was back at the hardware store. The local police hadn't counted on Scott owning a police scanner, so when the word went out that they were looking to pick him up for questioning he had barricaded himself inside.
"Well, the good news is that we know Jane closed the store before all this, so he doesn't have any hostages. On the other hand, do we have any idea what kind of weapons he's got?" Prophet asked Sheriff James.
"This is hunting country. I know he owns a couple of rifles and a shotgun," the Sheriff speculated. "I'll go check on what else he has registered."
The LEO ambled away far too slowly for Mick's taste. They were trying to secure a location with too many exits. The apartment had a side entry, a fire escape, and a door into the store itself. The store also had three exits, and with the low sun bouncing off the windows, there was no way to tell if the unsub had moved from the apartment to the store or not.
James returned carrying two printed pages. Beth took them from him and glanced over the contents. Her eyes widened and she handed the papers to Mick.
"Well, he has six handguns," he reported, "ranging in size from 'easy to conceal personal defense' to 'ready to deploy to a warzone,' as well as four rifles that you'd only use for hunting if your goal was the obliteration of the animal in question. Clearly, he's not in it for the pelts or meat. Bless you Americans and your gun laws. Back home, he'd have a harder time building this collection, but we'd probably never know it existed."
Beth broke in. "But with a 'collection' like this, there's a good chance that he has illegal weapons, too."
Sheriff James, who'd developed a habit of hanging on Beth's every word, asked "How would he do that? We're not exactly a big town and Scott doesn't get out of Collinsburg much. I can't think how he'd get his hands on any illegal weapons."
Beth smiled up at the looming LEO, a wide, friendly smile that made Mick stare.
"That's as may be." Mick blinked. Beth never spoke yokel. She left that to Gina and Prophet, the charming chameleons of their little band. "But now we know at least some of the firepower he's got, we'd better adjust the lines. Pull the barricades back…" she glanced questioningly at Mick.
"At least ten metres - that's eleven yards, to you yanks," he teased with a wink. "It won't help with the rifles, but if all he's got is the handguns, his accuracy might be compromised. That and staying behind the cars will do for now."
Beth nodded her agreement. "We can talk infiltration points as soon as you get us that heat scope Mick asked for when we got here."
Mick glared pointedly to reinforce her subtle prodding. The Sheriff tried to match his gaze, but quickly broke off and strode over to his men.
"Can't think how he'd get illegal weapons?" Beth laughed as she shared a look with Gina. "How cute is that?" The two women smiled as they watched Sheriff James direct his men.
Cute? Mick's eyebrows shot up.
"Cute, huh?" Prophet's incredulous voice matched Mick's train of thought. "You two going to take him home and have tea parties?"
Gina laughed and bumped him in the arm. It was a subtle, personal gesture, one that Mick realized they exchanged frequently.
"Nah," Beth said with a smile. "I thought I'd sweep him off his feet and take him away from this one-horse-town." Mick could feel his eyes widening. Beth actually wanted this guy? "And then I'd drop him in the middle of an L.A. barrio to see how long Mr. Aw Shucks, Wide-Eyed Innocent lasts."
Mick joined in the others' laughter, his chuckles tinged with relief. Much better to have prickly, blood-thirsty Beth than that weird girly creature she'd briefly turned into.
"Anyway, I suppose we should be glad he doesn't have the apartment over the gun store," Beth muttered, bouncing on her toes beside Mick.
"Yeah, cause I can't think of any way to turn power tools, chemicals, and hardware into weapons," he responded sarcastically. He wished that she would calm down; her nervous energy was contagious. He also wished that he could just pull out his rifle with its thermal scope. Coop had vetoed that idea, though. They needed the unsub alive if they were going to have a chance of finding the third victim, and 7.62mm Russian rounds caused enough damage even when Mick wasn't shooting to kill. The hours of surgery and recovery involved were hours that their victim might not have.
"Well, not everyone took the '101 ways to kill using a paint stir stick and duct tape' lessons like you. This guy's a hunter who spent a couple dozen weekends drilling with the National Guard. He probably thinks that fertilizer is for fields and nails are for walls. Nothing in his history shows any hint of militia connections or training in explosives."
Beth resumed her fidgety movements as soon as she finished speaking. Without thinking, Mick reached out and rested a hand on her upper back, rubbing small circles with his palm the way he used to soothe Jenna when she was wound up or upset. Beth stilled and stared up at him.
"What?" she demanded, her eyes darting from his arm to his face. Mick pulled his hand back quickly.
"Sorry," he stuttered slightly. "The bouncing. You were fidgeting. It was like that clock all over again."
She stared at him as though he'd sprouted horns, and then comprehension dawned.
"Getting on your nerves, was it?" She grinned at him. "You could just tell me to stop, y'know."
Mick felt his cheeks flush slightly. He was hardly going to admit that his instinct was to calm her, so he matched her grin for grin.
"I could tell you to stop," he mused, "but given how often you actually listen to other people, I felt a more direct approach was called for."
Beth's eyebrows went up into what Gina called her 'fighting face' but Mick was saved from whatever she cutting insult was planning by Coop's call for the team to gather around the command table.
Day Two - 7:00 pm
Beth shifted from foot to foot. It was partly to keep warm and partly because she was feeling antsy. She shuffled through her files one more time. There was nothing new to be found, but at least the activity kept her conscious mind distracted. While her hands were busy, her subconscious was free to make connections. Not that any seemed to be falling into place right now.
"Agent Griffiths?" It was Sheriff James, doffing his hat and ducking his head. Seriously, she thought, the man was a walking cliché. Adorable, but also slightly creepy. "This is Doctor Fanster. He's Scott's primary physician at the hospital in Nancy. I thought you might want to talk to him face to face, so I had Jerry drive him over. And this is Sarah Dancy, his clinic nurse. She agreed to come speak with you as well.
"Doctor Fanster, this is for you," Sherriff James continued, handing over a folder of paperwork. "I got Judge Reynolds to expedite a HIPPA-waiver court order so that you can legally talk to us about Scott. It covers his appointment schedule, treatment, surgical and medication history, and all information on referrals to other physicians or medical professionals. After that, Tim says you're to use your discretion. Same applies to you, Nurse Dancy."
Okay, Sheriff James was more than just a cliché, Beth had to admit. They had reached out to the local GP, but this doctor would have much more insight into the injury's effects on Scott's psyche. The Sheriff had been correct in assuming that being able to speak with the doctor in person was an advantage. The court order would allow the physician to discuss specific topics, but he would also reveal useful information through facial or physical responses. And bringing the nurse really raised the Sheriff in Beth's esteem. She would have seen Scott as his most vulnerable times and could speak to his interactions with other patients.
"Doctor Fanster. Ms Dancy," Beth shook hands with the pair. "Thank you so much for coming all this way tonight. As you can see, we're working under pressure, so I apologize if we rush through things."
Beth gestured over her shoulder at the barricade that was forming. Prophet and Mick were overseeing the placement of police vehicles in a carefully spaced perimeter around the hardware store. Gina was working the phones, coordinating the arrival of the extra officers from other counties who were coming to assist in the search. Coop stood with Jane Andrews, who seemed to be in a state of shocked numbness.
"Doctor Fanster, how long have you been treating Scott?" Beth decided to start with the easy questions, hoping that a few minutes in the tense environment would loosen the doctor's tongue.
"I took over Scott's case once he transitioned into out-patient care. That would be a little over four years ago." The doctor glanced at his nurse, who nodded. Clearly, a team act, these two.
"And for the past two years, how often have you seen Scott?"
"Scott has had a monthly check in with us for the past year," the nurse replied. "He also comes into the clinic every five or six days for physio and massage on his legs and back. That used to be more often, but his strength and flexibility have improved to the point where he could cut back."
"His recovery has been remarkable," Doctor Fanster said with a nod. "Scott is the most determined, dedicated patient I have ever worked with. He drives himself so hard, and it has produced incredible results."
"This drive," Beth asked, "how does it affect his relationship with other people? Is he easy to work with as a patient?"
The pair exchanged glances. After a moment, the doctor answered.
"He's a model patient. He comes to his appointments on time, he does all his extra sessions, is religious about his medication and exercises." When he finished speaking, he closed his lips tightly.
Beth waited expectantly. The doctor was holding back, but the nurse wasn't as shy.
"He's a nightmare in the waiting room." Sarah Dancy bit her lip. "I mean, it's great that he's punctual, but he goes crazy if he has to wait because someone else is late. Or if the doctor is called over the hospital for an emergency and we have to reschedule. Anything upsets his appointment and I get a real earful."
"So he resents other patients taking up his time?"
"Oh yes. He really doesn't have much time for the other patients," the nurse raised her eyebrows. "I know that his injuries are some of the worst we've dealt with, but he acts like he's the only patient that matters. Like we exist just for him."
"Does he resent healthy people?" Beth asked "It's not uncommon in someone who has been severely injured the way Scott was. He might turn his anger about his injury onto others ."
Nurse Dancy laughed. "You wouldn't think Scott was angry about his legs, to hear him joke about them. But I think you're right. He sure freaks out when other people talk about his limp or his scar."
"Sarah, that's hardly to the point," Doctor Fanster said mildly. "Anyone would resent it if someone made jokes about injuries that severe."
"I'm not talking about jokes, George. His last appointment, he yelled at Mrs. Arthurs because she commented that the damp weather must be why he was limping worse than usual. She was just being sympathetic. Anyway, all the staff know that you only talk about his legs if he brings it up first."
Beth wrapped up the interview quickly after that, asking the Sheriff to work with Sarah Dancy to confirm Scott's appointment schedule. She made her way over to the command table, where Coop was conferring with Mick. Beth knew that Coop would need the information provided by the medical personnel. His intention was to try to draw their unsub out through talk, at least until the search teams located Matthew House.
Once Matthew was located - Coop was certain he would be located soon - Coop would try to provoke Scott into exiting the building for a take-down. And failing that…
"I'll take the shot from the barricades, yeah?" Mick asked.
"I think so," Coop said. "For now, no need for a long distance solution. Let's keep this close and controlled. You'll be primary, but I may need to pull you out to consult on the search, so pick a short-range position that anyone firearms proficiency can handle. "
Beth watched Mick's shoulders tense up as Coop walked away. She could see him assessing the barricade for good positions. It didn't look good, with the evening sun reflecting off the store windows. But she knew that wasn't the only reason he was tense. Mick might be an experienced sniper, but he had joked bitterly about his role as their 'official executioner' in past.
"Ready for an exciting evening of staring at a blank wall of glass?" Beth asked, punching him in the arm.
Mick laughed lightly. "Playing guess the target? It's an old favourite of mine."
"Hey, once we get that heat scope hooked up to a monitor, we can tag team it. I'll be your eyes," she offered.
"So that makes me the hands?" he asked.
"Seems appropriate," Beth smirked at him.
"Best hands in the business," Mick teased with a charming grin. Beth rolled her eyes and walked away.
Part Three