Criminal Minds (11 page)

‘‘You’re making this up,’’ Tovar said.

Hotchner smiled a little and said, ‘‘No. That was chapter and verse from the history of our field. It wasn’t until almost twenty years later—1972—when the BAU was initially formed with eleven agents. Since then, we’ve been growing and learning more and more about our craft. Agents like David Rossi, here, built it into what we have today. It’s not guesswork, Hilly, or mumbo jumbo, either . . . rather, science based on research, study, and hard-earned field experience. We’ve had a lot more successes than failures, and I fully expect us to bring this killer to justice as well.’’

‘‘Okay,’’ Tovar said. ‘‘How do we do that?’’

‘‘The first question,’’ Rossi said, ‘‘is whether or not to suppress the pictures.’’

‘‘That’s a question?’’ Lorenzon asked, alarmed. ‘‘Why in the hell would you even
consider
making them public?’’

Rossi said, ‘‘To press him. If we can make the UnSub uncomfortable enough, we might force him into making a mistake.’’

‘‘Okay, I can see that,’’ Lorenzon admitted, ‘‘but I don’t see how the pictures fit into the catching-the-bastard equation.’’

‘‘We can use the pictures or not, really,’’ Rossi said, and shrugged. ‘‘But if we do, they’ll be part of publicizing the mistakes he’s already made.’’

Tovar blinked at Rossi. ‘‘He’s made mistakes?’’

But it was Reid who responded. ‘‘Not mistakes that will help us apprehend him—not in the sense of direct evidence, anyway. But he
has
made mistakes in the sense that his reenactments have been inexact in numerous ways.’’

Lorenzon asked, ‘‘Why’s that significant?’’

Hotchner said, ‘‘It goes back to what I said earlier. Behavior reveals personality.’’

‘‘Guys.’’ Tovar raised both hands in surrender. ‘‘You’re losing me. You keep talking in circles.’’

‘‘We really aren’t,’’ Prentiss said and gave the detective a friendly smile. ‘‘What we’re saying is that this UnSub has gone to great lengths to re-create these crimes—wouldn’t you agree?’’

‘‘Sure.’’

‘‘So what does that tell you about him?’’

Tovar shrugged. ‘‘That he’s a goddamn lunatic?’’

Morgan shook his head and said, ‘‘You’re expressing an emotional reaction to the crime.’’

‘‘You’re damned straight I am!’’

Morgan gestured with open palms. ‘‘Take emotion out of it. Look at the behavior purely for what it is . . . and how it reflects the personality of the UnSub."

Tovar ran a hand over his face, a trail of confusion left in its wake. The older detective looked for help to the younger one, who could only shrug. Frustrated, Tovar turned back to Hotchner. ‘‘In English, please.’’

‘‘If you want to understand the artist,’’ Hotchner said, ‘‘you have to look at the painting.’’

The comparison was one Hotchner had shared with Prentiss, and that he’d probably told them all at some point or other. What Prentiss didn’t know was that Hotchner had heard it from Rossi when Hotch first joined the BAU.

Hotchner nodded at JJ, who clicked a button on her laptop, bringing the Chicago Heights crime scene onto the large video screen.

‘‘Set aside any emotional response,’’ Hotchner said. ‘‘Now, look at the photo and tell me what you can deduce about the UnSub."

Tovar studied the photo for several long moments. ‘‘We know he stalked the neighborhood, and probably the victims.’’

‘‘Which tells us?’’

‘‘He’s careful?’’ Tovar asked, a kid guessing at the right answer in algebra class.

‘‘Okay,’’ Morgan said. ‘‘What else?’’

Tovar thought a while. Then he said, ‘‘Dr. Reid says the perp went to the driver’s window, because the male was a greater threat. Another sign that he’s careful.’’

‘‘Good. Anything else?’’

‘‘He dropped the piece of paper right where Berkowitz did the same. Means he’d studied the original crime. He mimicked it.’’

‘‘That’s right,’’ Hotchner said. ‘‘Which shows?’’

‘‘He’s . . . detail oriented?’’

‘‘Right,’’ Rossi said. ‘‘Now, what do you know about most careful, detail-oriented people?’’

‘‘Mostly, they’re a-holes,’’ Lorenzon piped in.

Rossi chuckled. ‘‘And a lot of them are cops—but we’ll set aside the chicken and the egg discussion on that point.’’ To Tovar, he said, ‘‘What else about detail-oriented types?’’

‘‘Well, they’re conservative,’’ Tovar said. ‘‘Not necessarily in the political sense, but . . . in that they don’t usually take big risks.’’

‘‘I agree,’’ Rossi said. ‘‘So, our UnSub is taking a huge risk by shooting two people on a public street. Why would he do that?’’

Tovar asked, ‘‘Isn’t that the question
we
brought to
you
? One of ’em, anyway?’’

Nodding, Rossi said, ‘‘The big answer will come when we have the profile fully developed. But for right now, in just this Chicago Heights case? He took the risk because he was relatively certain he could commit the deed and escape. He had it well planned out. He had studied not just Berkowitz, but every aspect of
this
attack as well. Escape routes—what to do if things went wrong. He might even have gone so far as to make bogus 911 calls, so he could gauge police response time. This UnSub doesn’t blow his nose without planning it out.’’

‘‘Oh-kay,’’ Tovar said, eyes narrow.

Rising, pacing now, occasionally glancing at the grim photo on the screen, Rossi said, ‘‘Even though this careful, detail-oriented UnSub studied and planned every detail of the crime, he made a mistake.’’

‘‘You keep
saying
that,’’ Tovar said. ‘‘What the hell was it?’’

Reid stopped and said, ‘‘Remember what I said when we first looked at this photo? He went to the wrong side of the car.’’

‘‘For safety sake, he did.’’

‘‘But for re-creating a famous crime he didn’t,’’ Reid said. ‘‘Berkowitz always went to the passenger side—the women were the objects of his anger. He shot
them
first. So our UnSub made a mistake.’’

‘‘How does that matter?’’

Rossi said, ‘‘It’s something we can use against him.’’

Shaking his head, Tovar said, ‘‘I still don’t follow that.’’

‘‘Go back to careful, detail-oriented people in general. How do they usually react when someone points out they’re wrong?’’

Lorenzon said, ‘‘They get well and truly pissed off.’’

‘‘Uh huh,’’ Rossi said with a devilish little grin. ‘‘And what if the person who points out their mistake is someone that our detail-oriented friend considers an intellectual inferior?’’

Lorenzon gave up half a grin. ‘‘They get
way
the hell bent out of shape.’’

Tovar was frowning. ‘‘This guy thinks he’s
smarter
than us?’’

Rossi’s short laugh was as bitter as it was humorless. ‘‘This UnSub thinks he’s smarter than both of you, Detectives Lorenzon and Tovar, and everybody you work with in your PDs. He’s smarter than us, too, smarter than the whole FBI, and—perhaps most important—smarter even than the killers he’s mimicking. He thinks he can do their crimes
better
than they did. He imagines he’ll get away with it. They all got caught, but he won’t—in his freedom, that makes him the king, and the famous killers he’s imitating are his court.’’

Hotchner said, ‘‘Now, take a person with that much ego, and all the other qualities we’ve outlined, and how do you suppose he would react to us pointing out his mistakes?’’

Tovar said, ‘‘But maybe they aren’t mistakes. If he’s trying to do these murders better than the originals, maybe he views what you call mistakes as improvements.’’

Hotchner nodded. ‘‘That’s valid. So these aren’t mistakes—they are personal flourishes, improvements. And so how would he react to his improvements being viewed as errors?’’

‘‘He’d go batshit,’’ Lorenzon said.

Rossi grinned. ‘‘That’s as good a technical term for it as I could come up with myself.’’

Morgan said, ‘‘He also made a mistake—or maybe an improvement—with the women in Wauconda.’’

Lorenzon frowned. ‘‘Which was?’’

Prentiss jumped in. ‘‘When Ted Bundy committed the original crime, he also lured two women away from the lake, killing them, burying them in the woods. The difference is that Bundy placed a body part of a third female victim—one who was never identified—in the grave with the other two. Our UnSub overlooked that detail."

Rossi said, ‘‘Let’s call it another mistake.’’

Tovar sat forward. ‘‘And you want to use a public relations campaign citing this madman’s mistakes to drive him into a frenzy?’’

Rossi shrugged. ‘‘Once we figure out how to know when, where, and who he might lash out against, perhaps. If we can force him into the open, and into making a real mistake, we’ll catch him. The key is to do it without losing another victim.’’

The two detectives stared at him.

Hotchner drew their attention, saying, ‘‘That’s why we’re not suggesting any publicity campaign at this time. When we know more about our UnSub, we may want to try that, to draw him out. Not yet, though.’’

Rossi said, ‘‘I
can
tell you a couple more things about him, however.’’

The detectives looked up at Rossi expectantly.

‘‘Even though this UnSub is copying crimes, his rage is as real and as great as those who originally committed them. It would be a mistake to read this as a cold-blooded killer playing copycat from a prepared script.’’

‘‘If it’s rage,’’ Lorenzon said, ‘‘why the elaborate re-creations? Why not just lash out?’’

‘‘This rage is nothing new to our UnSub," Rossi said. ‘‘He’s felt this fury for a long time, possibly his whole life. But now something has fueled him to act out that fury. If we find the stressor that triggered all this, we find the beginning of the chain.’’

Tovar frowned. ‘‘Are you saying he’s killed more than these five people?’’

‘‘It’s possible,’’ Rossi said.

‘‘Oh hell,’’ Lorenzon said.

Rossi looked from one local detective to the other. ‘‘I’ve also seen enough of these cases to know this UnSub is a cop buff—the type that thinks he’s smarter than all of us cops combined. So the next thing to be aware of is that almost certainly he’ll be injecting himself into this investigation.’’

‘‘How so?’’ Lorenzon asked.

‘‘That, I have no idea,’’ Rossi said, then added: ‘‘
Yet
. . . But, trust me, he’ll find a way. He’ll want to know what we know, and he’ll want to prove to himself that he’s smarter than we are.’’

Hotchner added, ‘‘By insinuating himself in the investigation, the UnSub gains a feeling of power. This reassures his feeling of superiority, when we can’t figure out it’s him, and he’s been right in front of us.’’

Tilting her head, Prentiss asked, ‘‘Were there gawkers at the Chicago Heights crime scene?’’

‘‘There are always some,’’ Tovar said with a nod. ‘‘Mostly neighbors.’’

‘‘Possibly the UnSub, too,’’ Prentiss said. ‘‘Did you get pictures of the crowd?’’

‘‘No . . . I never even thought of it.’’

Prentiss didn’t give him a hard time about that, just asked, ‘‘How about Chinatown? Any gawkers there?’’

Lorenzon said, ‘‘You know there were. Half of Chinatown came around, and a bunch of walk-ups who just happened to be in the neighborhood eating Chinese and buying trinkets.’’

‘‘Photos of the crowd?’’

‘‘I didn’t take any, and I didn’t specifically ask that any be taken. Someone else might have. Possible TV news footage might cover that. I’ll look into it.’’

‘‘Thanks,’’ Prentiss said. ‘‘We might get lucky. If the UnSub shows up to check out what’s going on, we might catch a picture of him. If we spot a face at more than one scene, with the locations this far apart? It might just belong to our guy.’’

‘‘No shit,’’ Tovar said.

‘‘It would be nice if it was that easy,’’ Hotchner said dryly. ‘‘My guess is it won’t be.’’

Lorenzon’s cell phone chirped. They all turned to him as he yanked it off his belt and checked the number. ‘‘My boss,’’ he said. ‘‘Better take this.’’ He rose and left the room, all their eyes still on him.

Before Hotchner could start up again, Garcia spoke through the computer. ‘‘Emily?’’

Prentiss looked at the screen, where Garcia was staring at her with wide, bright eyes. ‘‘What?’’

‘‘The Cook County ME has just ID’d your body in the barrel.’’

Garcia had the attention of everyone in the room now.

‘‘Who is he?’’ Prentiss asked.

‘‘His name is Bobby Edels. He was twenty. The ME had to identify him through dental records.’’

Hotchner asked, ‘‘What do you know about him?’’

Garcia said, ‘‘He worked at a Fix-It Mate in Mundelein.’’

‘‘Fix-It Mate?’’ Reid asked.

‘‘Small chain of home-repair stores,’’ Tovar said. ‘‘Dozen or so across the Midwest.’’

Jareau asked, ‘‘And Mundelein?’’

‘‘Far northern suburb,’’ Lorenzon said. ‘‘No telling how he got from there to Chinatown.’’

Reid said, ‘‘The starting point is
when
he disappeared.’’

‘‘March twenty-first,’’ Garcia said from the computer. ‘‘He was last seen when he clocked out from work that day.’’

Prentiss frowned. ‘‘Almost a month before the shooting in Chicago Heights . . .’’

Hotchner said, ‘‘He’s been at this even longer than we thought.’’

‘‘Sunshine,’’ Morgan said, looking toward the computer (he and Garcia had a close, joking relationship), ‘‘have you got anything else on Edels?’’

‘‘His parents live in North Barrington. Cook County has sent officers to inform the family.’’

‘‘Nothing else?’’

‘‘Still digging,’’ Garcia said.

‘‘That’s my girl.’’

Hotchner said, ‘‘All right, let’s get to work. David, you and Reid visit Edels’s parents. Maybe they know something that can help.’’