An Imitation of a Light - Part Two
An Imitation of a Light
Written for cm_bigbang
See the header here for full details.
Part Specific warnings: mentions of child abuse and paedophilia.
Charleston County, South Carolina
The County Sheriff’s office was a little bigger than JJ had expected, and it had taken the young woman on reception a moment to find out where they needed to be sent, the presence of two FBI agents seeming to fluster her. She was, JJ figured, either pretty new, or it had been a while since the FBI had last visited the county.
The Sheriff himself came down to greet them both, his handshake firm, before he directed them up to the second floor. They had given over an office to the task force that had been formed; the case had only recently become the Sheriff’s responsibility.
Hotch lead the way up the stairs, and JJ followed, taking in their surroundings, which were a little more welcoming than some. The office was at the end of the corridor, taking up most of the east end of the floor, and JJ was relieved. She had been half expecting to find a tiny corner office; it had happened in the past.
From what the Sheriff had told JJ over the phone, they were used to dealing with single murders, all typically easier to solve than these killings. The Sheriff had never had a serial killer active under his watch before, and JJ wasn’t surprised. Charleston County wasn’t the kind of place she imaged finding a surplus of serial killers.
Two detectives, and two deputies were already inside, spaced out around the room, each working on their own work.
One of the detectives, a tall, broad, middle aged man with dark circles under his eyes, was the first to stand, crossing the room to meet them as the door swung shut, “Daniel Yates, Charleston City PD, you folks would be the FBI?”
JJ smiled automatically, recognising the touch of anger in the man’s voice. It wasn’t unusual for them to receive a chilly welcome. “Jennifer Jareau, and this is SSA Hotchner.”
Yates looked at Hotch, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he turned his attention back to JJ, “I’d expected more of you.”
The other detective, a younger man, had stood by then, and offered them an apologetic smile from behind Yates. JJ guessed from that that Yates’ attitude was pretty much universal, rather than it just being a case of him not liking the FBI being called in.
“The others are out visiting the most recent dump sites.” Hotch explained easily, un-swayed by Yates’ attitude, and Yates nodded.
The other detective edged forward, offering them his hand, “Detective Sumner, North Charleston PD. Keri Osbourne was my case.”
The deputies came forward then, Innes, a woman whose blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, and Duncan, a man whose skin was a tone darker than Morgan’s. Both seemed happier to see them than Yates.
“I’d say it’s a pleasure but under the circumstances I’m just grateful that you could come. This case is a weird one.” Innes said, offering them a wan smile. JJ guessed that, after Yates, Innes was the most senior officer in the room.
Yates gave a slight snort, leaning back against the conference table that took up most of the centre of the room. “Some sicko is murdering good people; I wouldn’t call it weird.”
Innes cast a look at Yates, but didn’t answer. That instantly won her points in JJ’s head.
“Have you got room for us?” JJ eyed the room; there was probably enough room, and the ‘task force’ was a tiny one in comparison to most. They just needed to get it set up, then start working.
“How many more of you are there?” Duncan asked.
“Four.” Hotch said, and Duncan hesitated for a moment, as though waiting for Hotch to say something else, before he nodded, shifting his weight a little.
“Should be able to fit us all in here.” Innes commented dryly, then nodded towards the door next to the one that JJ and Hotch had entered through. “There’s bunch of case boards in there, all we need to do is drag them out and we can get all set up.”
JJ didn’t ask why they hadn’t already; she got the impression that in the short time the task force had existed, the four had been trying to find a middle ground to work from. They apparently hadn’t received word of JJ’s request.
JJ followed Innes to the door, aware of Duncan behind her. The quicker they got set up, the better. Meanwhile, Hotch started pressing the two detectives for further details on their cases.
-
Keri Osborne had been dumped on the edge of a park, just a few blocks from her home. Standing as close to the dump site as they could, neither Rossi nor Prentiss had been able to get much from the site. That was the problem with dump sites, they gave you very little to work with.
It was the murder scene that told you the most and the little details of each step of the crime, from acquiring the victim to dumping the victim; those were the things that helped narrow down a profile.
After half an hour at the site they had managed to determine that she had to have been dumped at night, or during the early morning, before people were really up and around. If the unsub had dumped the body at any other time he would have risked being seen, there had been almost no cover, and the park was a popular one, kids running around freely, and houses overlooking it on two sides.
They’d visited during the late afternoon, and it had been difficult to avoid the various children running around the place. Rossi had almost taken a soccer ball to the face, though that had earned him the phone number of the kid’s mother, something he fully intended to boast about to Morgan.
After a few brief conversation with some of the parents, they agreed that they weren’t likely to get anything more from the scene, and had headed back to the car.
They drove the short distance between the dumpsite and the Osborne house in silence. Prentiss doing a final read through of the file while Rossi drove.
The first thing Rossi noticed as they pulled up in front of the house was the lawn. The Osbornes’ front lawn was neater than he had expected, though he would be the first to admit that he always thought, despite knowing better, that abuse would show up in the way that a house was kept. His own parents had been loving and supportive, despite the choices he’d made, and his mother had always been in the garden, small as their garden had been. He’d never thought that a bad mother would be able to keep a garden as well as his own.
Looking at the Osborne’s garden, he couldn’t help but note just how wrong he’d been. Maybe she’d spend all of her time in the garden, instead of watching her kids. The path to the front door was ornate, the edges weed free, the borders of seasonal flowers perfect.
Rossi climbed the steps onto the front porch ahead of Prentiss, who was eying the front garden in a way that told him she was thinking the exact same thing he was. You could never tell a thing about a person from how they presented themselves to the world, or at least, you could never be certain of what you saw. He was sure that someone could argue that the neatness of the garden was actually a sign, but that made him wonder what people would think of his own childhood home.
Maybe they would tell him it explained a lot.
Rossi knocked on the door, then stepped back a little, reaching into his inner jacket pocket to pull out his credentials. He held them up as the door opened, revealing a middle aged man leaning hard against the door frame, dark circles under his eyes. “Mr Osborne? Agent Rossi, and Agent Prentiss, FBI, we were wondering if we could talk to you about your wife?”
Osborne stared blankly at them a moment before he nodded. Dave wasn’t sure how much he’d actually taken in, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.
-
Morgan turned on the spot, standing just to one side of where Monroe’s body had been found. They were at the far end of the high school football field, the school building just visible on the horizon.
Reid shifted, a little, uncomfortable under the steady gaze of their audience; a group of high school kids who were sitting up in the bleachers. Morgan didn’t say anything, Reid was always uncomfortable around kids, especially high school kids, and considering his childhood, Morgan couldn’t really blame him for it. It always sucked to be the outsider.
“It’s exposed.” Reid points out, throwing one last nervous glance towards the teenagers before focusing on working the scene. It isn’t the crime scene, it’s only the dumpsite, it can’t tell them as much, but it’s something. “The unsub had to dump the body when there would be no one around to watch.”
Morgan eyed the road, then looked around, searching for any trace of tire tracks. The ground was soft enough that he would expect to find them, “He carried the body out here, so he has to be physically strong.”
Reid nodded, “Or, we could be dealing with more than one unsub.”
Morgan frowned, shaking his head, “It’s too organised, too personal, I don’t think this is something that anyone would share.”
“But it’s possible.” Reid argued, and Morgan nodded, allowing that. They’d dealt with enough killing teams over the years, he knew better than to dismiss it without considering it against all of evidence they had.
Morgan pulled the case file out from the crook of his arm, flipping it open to the crime scene photographs, which showed every detail of the site as it had been found. The body posed, the newspaper positioned just so. Nothing else at the scene looked out of place, nothing disturbed. It was almost like the body and newspaper had just appeared there.
No footprints, no tire treads, no DNA, no fingerprints. Sterile of anything but what the unsub wanted found.
“It would have taken time, to carry the body out here, then arrange it. If it was just the one unsub, he had to have made another trip to grab the newspaper.” Morgan pointed at the crime scene photograph that showed a close up of the newspaper; it wasn’t folded, or stained, as he would have expected, if it had been carried with the body.
Reid nodded again and they both stood in silence for a long moment before Morgan sighed, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand, “We’re not going to get anything more from this scene, we should head to the school, see if there’s anyone there who’ll talk to us.”
-
Most of the teachers were still there, gathered in the staff room. From the atmosphere when they walked in, Morgan guessed that they were still trying to accept what had happened. It had been less than a week since Monroe had gone missing, less than two days since his body had been found within sight of the school buildings. On school grounds.
There was no way that hadn’t had an impact on them all. Staff and students alike.
For a moment Morgan wondered just who had found the body, he couldn’t remember it being mentioned in the file. He would have to remember to chase that up. Knowing who had discovered the body might be important later.
Morgan and Reid stepped into the room, shoulder to shoulder, and Morgan held up his credentials, drawing the attention of the room, “Agent Morgan and Doctor Reid, FBI, we’re here to help investigate Mr Monroe’s death, and we were wondering if any of you would be willing to talk to us?”
Morgan saw the looks a few of the staff threw at Reid, and while it was less than there had been a few years before, it still got his hackles up, just a little. The way people judged so quickly; not that it hadn’t come in handy on occasion.
There was a long moment of silence before a young woman stood up, a ball of tissue clenched in her right hand. “I can answer your questions.”
There were a few more nods around the room, and Morgan was relieved. He’d half expected them to circle the wagons, to do what they could to preserve the school’s reputation. And while that could still happen, it seemed that at least some of them were at least willing to talk.
-
Mr Osbourne lead them down a hallway, into a crowded living area. There weren’t toys scattered, the way Emily would have expected, considering the ages of the foster kids that were living with the Osbournes, instead they were all stored away in various boxes. It was the furniture that seemed to crowd the room, the lounge set bigger than there was really space for in the room.
She glanced sideways, having caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Two kids, aged about eight she guessed, stood in the far doorway, huddled together, their eyes haunted. Emily bit her lip, knowing that she couldn’t afford to express her feelings. They were there to talk to the victim’s husband, get an impression of what she had been like.
They needed him willing to talk, they didn’t need to say or do anything that might give him an excuse to clam up, or kick them out.
Rossi offered her a sympathetic look before he moved further into the room, sitting down on the couch that Osbourne pointed to. Emily gave the kids one last look before she sat beside him, gritting her teeth against the startled gasp; the couch was so soft, it felt like a little like she would just sink straight through.
Osbourne hovered for a moment, looking lost, before he sat down, perching on the edge of one of the armchairs. His hands shook as he clasped them together, rested on his knees. “The police,” he seemed a struggle for a moment before he went on, “I already spoke with the police.”
Rossi nodded, “The sheriff asked if we could help out, and there’s a few questions that we need to ask you, that the police might not have.”
Osbourne was silent for a long moment before he straightened a little, nodding, “If it’s going to keep you catch the person who took my Keri, I’ll answer any questions you have.”
Emily exchanged a look with Rossi, there was an edge of desperation in the man’s voice, and it was hard not to notice how he’d struggled over the word ‘took’. The guy clearly hadn’t even started to deal with the fact that his wife was dead. Emily glanced up, over to the far door again, where a third kid had joined the other two.
She knew that none of the questions they were about to ask would bring up anything the kids shouldn’t hear, but there was a part of her that still wanted them to be elsewhere. Wanted them not to have to hear any of this; their lives were hard enough as it was.
“Did your wife have any enemies?” Rossi started, and Osbourne stared dumbly at him, mouth hanging open, before he shook himself, something resembling anger clouding his expressions.
“No, no, everyone loves Keri, she’s an amazing mother and she keeps the house so tidy. I never know where she finds the time.” Emily watched the kids as their foster father spoke, and they watched her in return. The new arrival, who was older than the others, shook her head as Osbourne spoke.
“Were there ever any comments? Did anyone ever say anything to your wife that upset her?” Emily changed tack. Direct questions weren’t likely to turn up anything helpful, and she knew he would never let them speak to the kids. At the moment he hadn’t noticed that they were watching, and Emily didn’t want to get them into trouble.
Osbourne frowned, shaking his head, “Some people say hurtful things because they’re jealous. We don’t have an enemies, I don’t know who would want to hurt my Keri.”
Rossi shook his head faintly, they weren’t going to get anything useful from Osbourne. He was so caught up in his grief, in the loss of his wife, she had become a perfect thing to be defended. They would learn nothing more from him, apart from what his behaviour screamed.
“I’m sorry that we took up your time Mr. Osbourne.” Rossi stood, and Emily followed suit, offering Osbourne a somewhat brittle smile.
“We are very sorry for your loss.” Emily said, glancing behind him, the girl held up a piece of paper, and motioned. She’d leave it for Emily outside. Emily nodded, just enough for the girl to notice, then returned her attention to Osbourne, following as the man lead them back to the front door.
“Thanks you for coming.” Osbourne said, his voice almost a monotone.
Rossi stepped out onto the porch first, and Emily took her time in following, waiting for the door to close behind, before she stooped to pick up the scrap of folded paper, pushing it into her pocket.
She’d read it when they got to the County Sheriff’s office, where she could be certain that she wouldn’t get the little girl into trouble with her sole remaining foster parent.
-
Their first interview, with the young woman who had volunteered first, hadn’t produced anything helpful. All she’d done had been gush over what a nice man Monroe had been, how he hadn’t deserved to die. She’d clearly been in love with the man, unable to see any faults he had, and more to the point, she hadn’t really known him.
They didn’t share any classes, didn’t even teach the same year groups. She was a new hire, Monroe had been there years.
Spencer, toyed with his pen, letting Morgan take the lead in each of the short interviews. It wasn’t until their last volunteer, the man who had shared an office with Monroe, that Spencer spoke up.
“There were a few, complaints.” Mr Hemp said, sounding doubtful.
“Complaints?” Morgan asked, and Hemp shrugged.
“Some girls, suggested, that he was less than professional with them.”
“You think they were lying?” Spencer asked, just managing to keep the anger from his voice.
Hemp shrugged, “Scott was a handsome man, young, brilliant, most of the girls had a crush on him.” Hemp himself, with his crooked teeth, misshapen nose, and disproportionally wide shoulders, had likely never shared that particular fate. That didn’t lessen the anger Spencer felt though, in the face of the dismissive tone of voice the man was using.
“Was it checked out?” Morgan asked, making it sound like a routine question, that he had to ask.
“The Principal looked into it, nothing come of it.”
And there were no more complaints, Spencer thought to himself, because whatever methods the Principal had used to look into it, had likely made the girls scared to say anything else. Word would have passed around, and people would have known not to look for help from their teachers.
Spencer gritted his teeth. The Principal must have decided that Monroe’s actions hadn’t been too bad, and that the risk of word getting out that the school had employed someone who had showed an inappropriate interest in the girls was too great. The school’s reputation before the safety of the pupils.
“Did any of the staff have any issues with Mr. Monroe?” Morgan asked.
Hemp shook his head, “Not that I heard about, like I said, he was a nice guy. Didn’t have any enemies.”
Morgan smiled, though Spencer could see it was strained, “Thank you for talking to us Mr. Hemp.”
Hemp sat still for another moment before he nodded standing and hurrying out of the room.
Morgan slumped in his chair, muttering something under his breath, which Spencer pretended not to hear.
“The Principal won’t talk to us, nor will the Vice Principal.” Spencer knew he didn’t need to say it, but he had to break the silence.
Morgan sighed, nodding, “No, because then we might find out that Monroe was behaving inappropriately with some of his female students, and they can’t have that getting out.”
-
The two teams arrived at the County Sheriff’s office within an hour of each other, two hours after landing, to find JJ and Hotch already set up in the conference room, a victim per case board. JJ made the introductions, watching the interactions between the locals and her team mates.
The only one of them that Yates seemed to warm to was Rossi, something that didn’t surprise JJ. Rossi tended to have that effect on Yates’ type. It took them a few minutes to get settled, the BAU team taking over one side of the conference table, while the locals took the other side, Sumner grouping himself with the deputies while Yates sat with an empty chair either side of him.
“What did you find out?” Hotch asked, and Rossi and Prentiss exchanged a look. Rossi cast one glance down the table, then met Hotch’s gaze, quirking any eyebrow, and Hotch nodded, “Nothing will leave this room until we’re certain of the facts.” He made it clear, with his tone of voice, that it was as much an order as it was a statement.
JJ watched Yates clench is jaw, surprised when no one opposed Hotch. She just had to hope that they actually did as told.
“Osborne was mistreating her foster children,” Rossi said not softening the statement it at all, his expression grim, and Prentiss nodded along, mouth drawn into a thin line. “The husband didn’t say it, but we saw the kids. Not a one of them looked especially healthy.”
“The husband didn’t look great either,” Prentiss added, “he was grieving, but it was like he didn’t know what to do without her telling him what to do anymore.”
JJ winced a little at that, wondering what it would like the day when it finally sunk in that he was free. His reaction could go either way she guessed, and there wasn’t much they could do about it. She frowned, pulling out her blackberry and making a quick note. She could let the relevant agencies know, for the kids’ sake.
There was a beat of silence, as they waited to see if Prentiss or Rossi would add anything more, than Morgan spoke.
“There were unofficial complaints against Monroe, but they were mostly dismissed.” Morgan said, “He was a good looking guy and it’s like they figured the girls were just annoyed that he’d turned them down.”
JJ and Prentiss both made disgusted faces, and Hotch’s eyes narrowed, but none of them commented. Sadly, it wasn’t the first time they’d heard that excuse. Anything to make it sound like the victim had asked for what they’d got, even when they hadn’t.
“So you think that’s it?” Sumner asked. “You think that’s why they died?”
“It’s a possibility that each of the victims died because of a wrong that the unsub believed they had committed.” Hotch said, “But at the moment it’s still just a theory.”
Innes frowned, “It sounds like a bit more than a theory, though I guess there’s still Barnett’s family and friends to question.”
Prentiss nodded, “We have to be sure that it’s not just a coincidence.”
Yates snorted, “The woman was mistreating her kids, the teacher had complaints against him, doesn’t sound like a coincidence.”
Hotch frowned at Yates, “Osbourne might not have been intentionally mistreating her foster children, she might have been raised to believe that there was a certain way to bring up children. It’s worth talking to her case worker, and getting their opinion.”
Yates’ eye narrowed, “No excuse for the teacher?”
Hotch didn’t blink, “We need to cover all possibilities, make sure that we aren’t making assumptions. If it is the reason the unsub picked them, the profile will be very different than if it isn’t.”
Yates shook his head, pushing his chair back from the table, “I’m going to head out, go talk to Barnett’s work mates, see if I can help you folks out with your theory.”
No one said anything until the door swung closed behind Yates. Sumner let out a breath, shaking his head, “I’ll head out myself, see if I can get hold of Osbourne’s case worker, you want to talk to her yourselves?”
JJ nodded, “If possible.”
Sumner nodded, standing and collecting something from his pile of notes, “I’ll let you know when I’m headed back.”
“Thanks.” JJ said, then glanced at the two deputies, who were moving to stand.
“We can chase up Monroe’s girlfriend, and his family,” Innes said, “do you mind if we question them, or do you want to do that yourselves?”
“Odds are they aren’t going to give us anything we can work with,” Morgan said, “the only people who might be able to confirm his, interests, are the girls in his classes, or the Principle.”
Innes winced, “That’ll be a hard sell.”
Rossi nodded, “The girlfriend is likely the best bet, but you won’t be able to question her directly about it.”
“You want us to ask what he said about his classes? If there were any kids he had issues with?” Duncan asked, and Rossi nodded again.
“He might have complained about the girls that reported him, and the girlfriend might tell you about it. Watch and see if she starts to say anything then stops.” Rossi explained, and both deputies nodded their understanding.
“We’ll give you a report when we get back.” Innes said, then lead the way out of the room.
“Yates is going to be a joy to work with.” Rossi said, and Prentiss snorted.
“He doesn’t seem happy that we were called in.” JJ said, “But the first victim is his case, it might be that he doesn’t entirely buy the serial killer theory either.”
“So just be careful not to rustle his feathers too much.” Morgan translated, and JJ rolled her eyes.
Hotch moved, positioning one of their laptops in the middle of conference table, just as a video box appeared on the screen. Garcia greeted them with her usual enthusiasm and they all took up positions so that they were within the camera’s range. Garcia was always happier when she could see them all.
“I have completed my initial background check on your victims, and I have to say, there’s nothing here that might connect them. Different doctors, dentists, they lived and worked in different places, there is little to no visible crossover between these three.” Garcia said, waving at the screens to one side of her. “I have also not had any success with the newspaper angle.”
“Garcia, do any of them have records?” Hotch asked.
Garcia shook her head, “Osborne and Monroe are clean, though there have been a number of transfers out of the school recently, mostly girls. Barnett is another matter; there are medical records for his kids, and his wife, that suggest he used to beat them on a fairly regular basis. He doesn’t have much of a criminal record though. Just a few arrests after bar brawls. They never charged him for anything, they couldn’t prove how the kids and wife got injured.”
“There aren’t any complaints on file with the school or social services?” JJ asked. She knew that Garcia had probably checked, but she wanted to be sure.
Garcia shook her head, looking a little pained, “No complaints, but if you read behind the lines of some of the reports on them, by the Principal and case worker respectively, people suspected that there might be something there. If there were complaints, they never made it onto official digital records, a fact that makes me distinctly uncomfortable.”
“You and me both, baby girl.” Morgan said, and she offered him a smile in reply.
“How about Monroe’s students?” Prentiss asked, drawing everyone’s attention. “I know that we’re not going to get to ask them but is there anything online, any openly accessible blogs, anywhere that they might have made public their feelings about him?”
Garcia chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, typing away furiously, her attention on another of her screens, “They probably have some nickname for him, but I can see if they ever referred to him by name, and see if any comments of the icky teacher kind came from IP addresses in your area, but that could take me a while.”
“That’s fine Garcia, just let us know if you find anything.” Hotch said, and Garcia nodded, looking back to them, her hands stilling. Garcia would turn back to that search once she knew there was nothing else they wanted from her, JJ knew.
“Nothing we have is going to help narrow down potential victims.” Morgan said, and JJ winced. Normally that was what they would be doing, profiling the unsub and determining who might be his next victim, so that they could do everything possible to make them aware that they might be at risk.
There was a pause then Rossi spoke, theorising out loud as he did on occasion, “So, our working theory is, they were all punished for something that they had done, something that the unsub had to have known about,” Rossi commented, “now we just have to find all of the people in the area who have done something, but not been punished.” He shook his head, leaning back in his chair, “It’s not going to be a small victim pool.”
Garcia’s eyes had widened as Rossi spoke. “Sir, there’s not much that I can find out from searches, if these are people who weren’t caught.” It was clear that she was remembering the events of a year prior, when she’d had to investigate the inhabitants of a town that had been targeted by an arsonist, out for revenge against the people who had wronged him.
Hotch shook his head, “We have some time here, potentially, which means we can do as much work as possible ourselves. He’s only been taking one victim at the time, so far.” That had been the main factor that had forced Hotch’s hand with the case in Royale. Their unsub there had been killing groups of people, racking up a high victim count in a very short period of time.
That wasn’t their current unsub. This was a guy with a plan, who was taking his time carrying out each murder. The only time he was likely to start speeding up was if he felt threatened, and JJ seriously doubted that would happen anytime soon.
“He probably has a list.” Reid commented, “He’s working through it one at a time. All of his kills so far have been planned. He knew when he could take them and not be seen.”
“There’s got to have been a recent trigger.” Prentiss added, “Something that made him start this now, something that relates to the way he’s killing these people.”
“He’s working up to the person he really wants to kill.” Hotch commented, eying the victim boards, “He’s working up already, abusive husband, to abusive foster mother, to the abusive teacher.”
“So, we’re looking for a potential victim that’s a progression from the first three?” Morgan asked, frowning at the boards. It was a hard one to call. How did you rank crimes? He frowned, spotting another detail, “Each of them has more victims. Barnett it was just his wife and two kids. Osborne, her husband and four foster kids, at the moment, there’ve been more in the past. Monroe, any girl in the school, for as long as he was teaching there.”
“So it isn’t just a progression in severity of potential crime committed, it’s a progression in number of people affected.” Rossi nodded, “Makes sense. Now, how do you work that into a viable list of possible suspects?”
“With great difficulty.” Hotch answered dryly.
-
Part Three
Written for cm_bigbang
See the header here for full details.
Part Specific warnings: mentions of child abuse and paedophilia.
Charleston County, South Carolina
The County Sheriff’s office was a little bigger than JJ had expected, and it had taken the young woman on reception a moment to find out where they needed to be sent, the presence of two FBI agents seeming to fluster her. She was, JJ figured, either pretty new, or it had been a while since the FBI had last visited the county.
The Sheriff himself came down to greet them both, his handshake firm, before he directed them up to the second floor. They had given over an office to the task force that had been formed; the case had only recently become the Sheriff’s responsibility.
Hotch lead the way up the stairs, and JJ followed, taking in their surroundings, which were a little more welcoming than some. The office was at the end of the corridor, taking up most of the east end of the floor, and JJ was relieved. She had been half expecting to find a tiny corner office; it had happened in the past.
From what the Sheriff had told JJ over the phone, they were used to dealing with single murders, all typically easier to solve than these killings. The Sheriff had never had a serial killer active under his watch before, and JJ wasn’t surprised. Charleston County wasn’t the kind of place she imaged finding a surplus of serial killers.
Two detectives, and two deputies were already inside, spaced out around the room, each working on their own work.
One of the detectives, a tall, broad, middle aged man with dark circles under his eyes, was the first to stand, crossing the room to meet them as the door swung shut, “Daniel Yates, Charleston City PD, you folks would be the FBI?”
JJ smiled automatically, recognising the touch of anger in the man’s voice. It wasn’t unusual for them to receive a chilly welcome. “Jennifer Jareau, and this is SSA Hotchner.”
Yates looked at Hotch, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he turned his attention back to JJ, “I’d expected more of you.”
The other detective, a younger man, had stood by then, and offered them an apologetic smile from behind Yates. JJ guessed from that that Yates’ attitude was pretty much universal, rather than it just being a case of him not liking the FBI being called in.
“The others are out visiting the most recent dump sites.” Hotch explained easily, un-swayed by Yates’ attitude, and Yates nodded.
The other detective edged forward, offering them his hand, “Detective Sumner, North Charleston PD. Keri Osbourne was my case.”
The deputies came forward then, Innes, a woman whose blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, and Duncan, a man whose skin was a tone darker than Morgan’s. Both seemed happier to see them than Yates.
“I’d say it’s a pleasure but under the circumstances I’m just grateful that you could come. This case is a weird one.” Innes said, offering them a wan smile. JJ guessed that, after Yates, Innes was the most senior officer in the room.
Yates gave a slight snort, leaning back against the conference table that took up most of the centre of the room. “Some sicko is murdering good people; I wouldn’t call it weird.”
Innes cast a look at Yates, but didn’t answer. That instantly won her points in JJ’s head.
“Have you got room for us?” JJ eyed the room; there was probably enough room, and the ‘task force’ was a tiny one in comparison to most. They just needed to get it set up, then start working.
“How many more of you are there?” Duncan asked.
“Four.” Hotch said, and Duncan hesitated for a moment, as though waiting for Hotch to say something else, before he nodded, shifting his weight a little.
“Should be able to fit us all in here.” Innes commented dryly, then nodded towards the door next to the one that JJ and Hotch had entered through. “There’s bunch of case boards in there, all we need to do is drag them out and we can get all set up.”
JJ didn’t ask why they hadn’t already; she got the impression that in the short time the task force had existed, the four had been trying to find a middle ground to work from. They apparently hadn’t received word of JJ’s request.
JJ followed Innes to the door, aware of Duncan behind her. The quicker they got set up, the better. Meanwhile, Hotch started pressing the two detectives for further details on their cases.
-
Keri Osborne had been dumped on the edge of a park, just a few blocks from her home. Standing as close to the dump site as they could, neither Rossi nor Prentiss had been able to get much from the site. That was the problem with dump sites, they gave you very little to work with.
It was the murder scene that told you the most and the little details of each step of the crime, from acquiring the victim to dumping the victim; those were the things that helped narrow down a profile.
After half an hour at the site they had managed to determine that she had to have been dumped at night, or during the early morning, before people were really up and around. If the unsub had dumped the body at any other time he would have risked being seen, there had been almost no cover, and the park was a popular one, kids running around freely, and houses overlooking it on two sides.
They’d visited during the late afternoon, and it had been difficult to avoid the various children running around the place. Rossi had almost taken a soccer ball to the face, though that had earned him the phone number of the kid’s mother, something he fully intended to boast about to Morgan.
After a few brief conversation with some of the parents, they agreed that they weren’t likely to get anything more from the scene, and had headed back to the car.
They drove the short distance between the dumpsite and the Osborne house in silence. Prentiss doing a final read through of the file while Rossi drove.
The first thing Rossi noticed as they pulled up in front of the house was the lawn. The Osbornes’ front lawn was neater than he had expected, though he would be the first to admit that he always thought, despite knowing better, that abuse would show up in the way that a house was kept. His own parents had been loving and supportive, despite the choices he’d made, and his mother had always been in the garden, small as their garden had been. He’d never thought that a bad mother would be able to keep a garden as well as his own.
Looking at the Osborne’s garden, he couldn’t help but note just how wrong he’d been. Maybe she’d spend all of her time in the garden, instead of watching her kids. The path to the front door was ornate, the edges weed free, the borders of seasonal flowers perfect.
Rossi climbed the steps onto the front porch ahead of Prentiss, who was eying the front garden in a way that told him she was thinking the exact same thing he was. You could never tell a thing about a person from how they presented themselves to the world, or at least, you could never be certain of what you saw. He was sure that someone could argue that the neatness of the garden was actually a sign, but that made him wonder what people would think of his own childhood home.
Maybe they would tell him it explained a lot.
Rossi knocked on the door, then stepped back a little, reaching into his inner jacket pocket to pull out his credentials. He held them up as the door opened, revealing a middle aged man leaning hard against the door frame, dark circles under his eyes. “Mr Osborne? Agent Rossi, and Agent Prentiss, FBI, we were wondering if we could talk to you about your wife?”
Osborne stared blankly at them a moment before he nodded. Dave wasn’t sure how much he’d actually taken in, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.
-
Morgan turned on the spot, standing just to one side of where Monroe’s body had been found. They were at the far end of the high school football field, the school building just visible on the horizon.
Reid shifted, a little, uncomfortable under the steady gaze of their audience; a group of high school kids who were sitting up in the bleachers. Morgan didn’t say anything, Reid was always uncomfortable around kids, especially high school kids, and considering his childhood, Morgan couldn’t really blame him for it. It always sucked to be the outsider.
“It’s exposed.” Reid points out, throwing one last nervous glance towards the teenagers before focusing on working the scene. It isn’t the crime scene, it’s only the dumpsite, it can’t tell them as much, but it’s something. “The unsub had to dump the body when there would be no one around to watch.”
Morgan eyed the road, then looked around, searching for any trace of tire tracks. The ground was soft enough that he would expect to find them, “He carried the body out here, so he has to be physically strong.”
Reid nodded, “Or, we could be dealing with more than one unsub.”
Morgan frowned, shaking his head, “It’s too organised, too personal, I don’t think this is something that anyone would share.”
“But it’s possible.” Reid argued, and Morgan nodded, allowing that. They’d dealt with enough killing teams over the years, he knew better than to dismiss it without considering it against all of evidence they had.
Morgan pulled the case file out from the crook of his arm, flipping it open to the crime scene photographs, which showed every detail of the site as it had been found. The body posed, the newspaper positioned just so. Nothing else at the scene looked out of place, nothing disturbed. It was almost like the body and newspaper had just appeared there.
No footprints, no tire treads, no DNA, no fingerprints. Sterile of anything but what the unsub wanted found.
“It would have taken time, to carry the body out here, then arrange it. If it was just the one unsub, he had to have made another trip to grab the newspaper.” Morgan pointed at the crime scene photograph that showed a close up of the newspaper; it wasn’t folded, or stained, as he would have expected, if it had been carried with the body.
Reid nodded again and they both stood in silence for a long moment before Morgan sighed, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand, “We’re not going to get anything more from this scene, we should head to the school, see if there’s anyone there who’ll talk to us.”
-
Most of the teachers were still there, gathered in the staff room. From the atmosphere when they walked in, Morgan guessed that they were still trying to accept what had happened. It had been less than a week since Monroe had gone missing, less than two days since his body had been found within sight of the school buildings. On school grounds.
There was no way that hadn’t had an impact on them all. Staff and students alike.
For a moment Morgan wondered just who had found the body, he couldn’t remember it being mentioned in the file. He would have to remember to chase that up. Knowing who had discovered the body might be important later.
Morgan and Reid stepped into the room, shoulder to shoulder, and Morgan held up his credentials, drawing the attention of the room, “Agent Morgan and Doctor Reid, FBI, we’re here to help investigate Mr Monroe’s death, and we were wondering if any of you would be willing to talk to us?”
Morgan saw the looks a few of the staff threw at Reid, and while it was less than there had been a few years before, it still got his hackles up, just a little. The way people judged so quickly; not that it hadn’t come in handy on occasion.
There was a long moment of silence before a young woman stood up, a ball of tissue clenched in her right hand. “I can answer your questions.”
There were a few more nods around the room, and Morgan was relieved. He’d half expected them to circle the wagons, to do what they could to preserve the school’s reputation. And while that could still happen, it seemed that at least some of them were at least willing to talk.
-
Mr Osbourne lead them down a hallway, into a crowded living area. There weren’t toys scattered, the way Emily would have expected, considering the ages of the foster kids that were living with the Osbournes, instead they were all stored away in various boxes. It was the furniture that seemed to crowd the room, the lounge set bigger than there was really space for in the room.
She glanced sideways, having caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Two kids, aged about eight she guessed, stood in the far doorway, huddled together, their eyes haunted. Emily bit her lip, knowing that she couldn’t afford to express her feelings. They were there to talk to the victim’s husband, get an impression of what she had been like.
They needed him willing to talk, they didn’t need to say or do anything that might give him an excuse to clam up, or kick them out.
Rossi offered her a sympathetic look before he moved further into the room, sitting down on the couch that Osbourne pointed to. Emily gave the kids one last look before she sat beside him, gritting her teeth against the startled gasp; the couch was so soft, it felt like a little like she would just sink straight through.
Osbourne hovered for a moment, looking lost, before he sat down, perching on the edge of one of the armchairs. His hands shook as he clasped them together, rested on his knees. “The police,” he seemed a struggle for a moment before he went on, “I already spoke with the police.”
Rossi nodded, “The sheriff asked if we could help out, and there’s a few questions that we need to ask you, that the police might not have.”
Osbourne was silent for a long moment before he straightened a little, nodding, “If it’s going to keep you catch the person who took my Keri, I’ll answer any questions you have.”
Emily exchanged a look with Rossi, there was an edge of desperation in the man’s voice, and it was hard not to notice how he’d struggled over the word ‘took’. The guy clearly hadn’t even started to deal with the fact that his wife was dead. Emily glanced up, over to the far door again, where a third kid had joined the other two.
She knew that none of the questions they were about to ask would bring up anything the kids shouldn’t hear, but there was a part of her that still wanted them to be elsewhere. Wanted them not to have to hear any of this; their lives were hard enough as it was.
“Did your wife have any enemies?” Rossi started, and Osbourne stared dumbly at him, mouth hanging open, before he shook himself, something resembling anger clouding his expressions.
“No, no, everyone loves Keri, she’s an amazing mother and she keeps the house so tidy. I never know where she finds the time.” Emily watched the kids as their foster father spoke, and they watched her in return. The new arrival, who was older than the others, shook her head as Osbourne spoke.
“Were there ever any comments? Did anyone ever say anything to your wife that upset her?” Emily changed tack. Direct questions weren’t likely to turn up anything helpful, and she knew he would never let them speak to the kids. At the moment he hadn’t noticed that they were watching, and Emily didn’t want to get them into trouble.
Osbourne frowned, shaking his head, “Some people say hurtful things because they’re jealous. We don’t have an enemies, I don’t know who would want to hurt my Keri.”
Rossi shook his head faintly, they weren’t going to get anything useful from Osbourne. He was so caught up in his grief, in the loss of his wife, she had become a perfect thing to be defended. They would learn nothing more from him, apart from what his behaviour screamed.
“I’m sorry that we took up your time Mr. Osbourne.” Rossi stood, and Emily followed suit, offering Osbourne a somewhat brittle smile.
“We are very sorry for your loss.” Emily said, glancing behind him, the girl held up a piece of paper, and motioned. She’d leave it for Emily outside. Emily nodded, just enough for the girl to notice, then returned her attention to Osbourne, following as the man lead them back to the front door.
“Thanks you for coming.” Osbourne said, his voice almost a monotone.
Rossi stepped out onto the porch first, and Emily took her time in following, waiting for the door to close behind, before she stooped to pick up the scrap of folded paper, pushing it into her pocket.
She’d read it when they got to the County Sheriff’s office, where she could be certain that she wouldn’t get the little girl into trouble with her sole remaining foster parent.
-
Their first interview, with the young woman who had volunteered first, hadn’t produced anything helpful. All she’d done had been gush over what a nice man Monroe had been, how he hadn’t deserved to die. She’d clearly been in love with the man, unable to see any faults he had, and more to the point, she hadn’t really known him.
They didn’t share any classes, didn’t even teach the same year groups. She was a new hire, Monroe had been there years.
Spencer, toyed with his pen, letting Morgan take the lead in each of the short interviews. It wasn’t until their last volunteer, the man who had shared an office with Monroe, that Spencer spoke up.
“There were a few, complaints.” Mr Hemp said, sounding doubtful.
“Complaints?” Morgan asked, and Hemp shrugged.
“Some girls, suggested, that he was less than professional with them.”
“You think they were lying?” Spencer asked, just managing to keep the anger from his voice.
Hemp shrugged, “Scott was a handsome man, young, brilliant, most of the girls had a crush on him.” Hemp himself, with his crooked teeth, misshapen nose, and disproportionally wide shoulders, had likely never shared that particular fate. That didn’t lessen the anger Spencer felt though, in the face of the dismissive tone of voice the man was using.
“Was it checked out?” Morgan asked, making it sound like a routine question, that he had to ask.
“The Principal looked into it, nothing come of it.”
And there were no more complaints, Spencer thought to himself, because whatever methods the Principal had used to look into it, had likely made the girls scared to say anything else. Word would have passed around, and people would have known not to look for help from their teachers.
Spencer gritted his teeth. The Principal must have decided that Monroe’s actions hadn’t been too bad, and that the risk of word getting out that the school had employed someone who had showed an inappropriate interest in the girls was too great. The school’s reputation before the safety of the pupils.
“Did any of the staff have any issues with Mr. Monroe?” Morgan asked.
Hemp shook his head, “Not that I heard about, like I said, he was a nice guy. Didn’t have any enemies.”
Morgan smiled, though Spencer could see it was strained, “Thank you for talking to us Mr. Hemp.”
Hemp sat still for another moment before he nodded standing and hurrying out of the room.
Morgan slumped in his chair, muttering something under his breath, which Spencer pretended not to hear.
“The Principal won’t talk to us, nor will the Vice Principal.” Spencer knew he didn’t need to say it, but he had to break the silence.
Morgan sighed, nodding, “No, because then we might find out that Monroe was behaving inappropriately with some of his female students, and they can’t have that getting out.”
-
The two teams arrived at the County Sheriff’s office within an hour of each other, two hours after landing, to find JJ and Hotch already set up in the conference room, a victim per case board. JJ made the introductions, watching the interactions between the locals and her team mates.
The only one of them that Yates seemed to warm to was Rossi, something that didn’t surprise JJ. Rossi tended to have that effect on Yates’ type. It took them a few minutes to get settled, the BAU team taking over one side of the conference table, while the locals took the other side, Sumner grouping himself with the deputies while Yates sat with an empty chair either side of him.
“What did you find out?” Hotch asked, and Rossi and Prentiss exchanged a look. Rossi cast one glance down the table, then met Hotch’s gaze, quirking any eyebrow, and Hotch nodded, “Nothing will leave this room until we’re certain of the facts.” He made it clear, with his tone of voice, that it was as much an order as it was a statement.
JJ watched Yates clench is jaw, surprised when no one opposed Hotch. She just had to hope that they actually did as told.
“Osborne was mistreating her foster children,” Rossi said not softening the statement it at all, his expression grim, and Prentiss nodded along, mouth drawn into a thin line. “The husband didn’t say it, but we saw the kids. Not a one of them looked especially healthy.”
“The husband didn’t look great either,” Prentiss added, “he was grieving, but it was like he didn’t know what to do without her telling him what to do anymore.”
JJ winced a little at that, wondering what it would like the day when it finally sunk in that he was free. His reaction could go either way she guessed, and there wasn’t much they could do about it. She frowned, pulling out her blackberry and making a quick note. She could let the relevant agencies know, for the kids’ sake.
There was a beat of silence, as they waited to see if Prentiss or Rossi would add anything more, than Morgan spoke.
“There were unofficial complaints against Monroe, but they were mostly dismissed.” Morgan said, “He was a good looking guy and it’s like they figured the girls were just annoyed that he’d turned them down.”
JJ and Prentiss both made disgusted faces, and Hotch’s eyes narrowed, but none of them commented. Sadly, it wasn’t the first time they’d heard that excuse. Anything to make it sound like the victim had asked for what they’d got, even when they hadn’t.
“So you think that’s it?” Sumner asked. “You think that’s why they died?”
“It’s a possibility that each of the victims died because of a wrong that the unsub believed they had committed.” Hotch said, “But at the moment it’s still just a theory.”
Innes frowned, “It sounds like a bit more than a theory, though I guess there’s still Barnett’s family and friends to question.”
Prentiss nodded, “We have to be sure that it’s not just a coincidence.”
Yates snorted, “The woman was mistreating her kids, the teacher had complaints against him, doesn’t sound like a coincidence.”
Hotch frowned at Yates, “Osbourne might not have been intentionally mistreating her foster children, she might have been raised to believe that there was a certain way to bring up children. It’s worth talking to her case worker, and getting their opinion.”
Yates’ eye narrowed, “No excuse for the teacher?”
Hotch didn’t blink, “We need to cover all possibilities, make sure that we aren’t making assumptions. If it is the reason the unsub picked them, the profile will be very different than if it isn’t.”
Yates shook his head, pushing his chair back from the table, “I’m going to head out, go talk to Barnett’s work mates, see if I can help you folks out with your theory.”
No one said anything until the door swung closed behind Yates. Sumner let out a breath, shaking his head, “I’ll head out myself, see if I can get hold of Osbourne’s case worker, you want to talk to her yourselves?”
JJ nodded, “If possible.”
Sumner nodded, standing and collecting something from his pile of notes, “I’ll let you know when I’m headed back.”
“Thanks.” JJ said, then glanced at the two deputies, who were moving to stand.
“We can chase up Monroe’s girlfriend, and his family,” Innes said, “do you mind if we question them, or do you want to do that yourselves?”
“Odds are they aren’t going to give us anything we can work with,” Morgan said, “the only people who might be able to confirm his, interests, are the girls in his classes, or the Principle.”
Innes winced, “That’ll be a hard sell.”
Rossi nodded, “The girlfriend is likely the best bet, but you won’t be able to question her directly about it.”
“You want us to ask what he said about his classes? If there were any kids he had issues with?” Duncan asked, and Rossi nodded again.
“He might have complained about the girls that reported him, and the girlfriend might tell you about it. Watch and see if she starts to say anything then stops.” Rossi explained, and both deputies nodded their understanding.
“We’ll give you a report when we get back.” Innes said, then lead the way out of the room.
“Yates is going to be a joy to work with.” Rossi said, and Prentiss snorted.
“He doesn’t seem happy that we were called in.” JJ said, “But the first victim is his case, it might be that he doesn’t entirely buy the serial killer theory either.”
“So just be careful not to rustle his feathers too much.” Morgan translated, and JJ rolled her eyes.
Hotch moved, positioning one of their laptops in the middle of conference table, just as a video box appeared on the screen. Garcia greeted them with her usual enthusiasm and they all took up positions so that they were within the camera’s range. Garcia was always happier when she could see them all.
“I have completed my initial background check on your victims, and I have to say, there’s nothing here that might connect them. Different doctors, dentists, they lived and worked in different places, there is little to no visible crossover between these three.” Garcia said, waving at the screens to one side of her. “I have also not had any success with the newspaper angle.”
“Garcia, do any of them have records?” Hotch asked.
Garcia shook her head, “Osborne and Monroe are clean, though there have been a number of transfers out of the school recently, mostly girls. Barnett is another matter; there are medical records for his kids, and his wife, that suggest he used to beat them on a fairly regular basis. He doesn’t have much of a criminal record though. Just a few arrests after bar brawls. They never charged him for anything, they couldn’t prove how the kids and wife got injured.”
“There aren’t any complaints on file with the school or social services?” JJ asked. She knew that Garcia had probably checked, but she wanted to be sure.
Garcia shook her head, looking a little pained, “No complaints, but if you read behind the lines of some of the reports on them, by the Principal and case worker respectively, people suspected that there might be something there. If there were complaints, they never made it onto official digital records, a fact that makes me distinctly uncomfortable.”
“You and me both, baby girl.” Morgan said, and she offered him a smile in reply.
“How about Monroe’s students?” Prentiss asked, drawing everyone’s attention. “I know that we’re not going to get to ask them but is there anything online, any openly accessible blogs, anywhere that they might have made public their feelings about him?”
Garcia chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, typing away furiously, her attention on another of her screens, “They probably have some nickname for him, but I can see if they ever referred to him by name, and see if any comments of the icky teacher kind came from IP addresses in your area, but that could take me a while.”
“That’s fine Garcia, just let us know if you find anything.” Hotch said, and Garcia nodded, looking back to them, her hands stilling. Garcia would turn back to that search once she knew there was nothing else they wanted from her, JJ knew.
“Nothing we have is going to help narrow down potential victims.” Morgan said, and JJ winced. Normally that was what they would be doing, profiling the unsub and determining who might be his next victim, so that they could do everything possible to make them aware that they might be at risk.
There was a pause then Rossi spoke, theorising out loud as he did on occasion, “So, our working theory is, they were all punished for something that they had done, something that the unsub had to have known about,” Rossi commented, “now we just have to find all of the people in the area who have done something, but not been punished.” He shook his head, leaning back in his chair, “It’s not going to be a small victim pool.”
Garcia’s eyes had widened as Rossi spoke. “Sir, there’s not much that I can find out from searches, if these are people who weren’t caught.” It was clear that she was remembering the events of a year prior, when she’d had to investigate the inhabitants of a town that had been targeted by an arsonist, out for revenge against the people who had wronged him.
Hotch shook his head, “We have some time here, potentially, which means we can do as much work as possible ourselves. He’s only been taking one victim at the time, so far.” That had been the main factor that had forced Hotch’s hand with the case in Royale. Their unsub there had been killing groups of people, racking up a high victim count in a very short period of time.
That wasn’t their current unsub. This was a guy with a plan, who was taking his time carrying out each murder. The only time he was likely to start speeding up was if he felt threatened, and JJ seriously doubted that would happen anytime soon.
“He probably has a list.” Reid commented, “He’s working through it one at a time. All of his kills so far have been planned. He knew when he could take them and not be seen.”
“There’s got to have been a recent trigger.” Prentiss added, “Something that made him start this now, something that relates to the way he’s killing these people.”
“He’s working up to the person he really wants to kill.” Hotch commented, eying the victim boards, “He’s working up already, abusive husband, to abusive foster mother, to the abusive teacher.”
“So, we’re looking for a potential victim that’s a progression from the first three?” Morgan asked, frowning at the boards. It was a hard one to call. How did you rank crimes? He frowned, spotting another detail, “Each of them has more victims. Barnett it was just his wife and two kids. Osborne, her husband and four foster kids, at the moment, there’ve been more in the past. Monroe, any girl in the school, for as long as he was teaching there.”
“So it isn’t just a progression in severity of potential crime committed, it’s a progression in number of people affected.” Rossi nodded, “Makes sense. Now, how do you work that into a viable list of possible suspects?”
“With great difficulty.” Hotch answered dryly.
-
Part Three