Emily POV:
I watch the team enter the precinct from the conference room. Agent Harris takes a young man in handcuffs into the interrogation room on the other side of the station.
The rest remain in the bullpen. I drain my cup of coffee before crushing it and tossing it into the wastebasket and leaving the room.
Rossi sees me coming and directs the rest of them my way.
"The hands. Give us a run down," Rossi says.
"Okay, there's a couple things it could be." I turn back towards the conference room, the team following me.
"Common torture techniques include damaging the fingers. Sticking needles under the nails, smashing fingers, shaving the tips– I think you get my point. But it's also a countermeasure. The women can't scratch him as well with fingers as bloodied and cut as these. And they have no nails to catch any traceable DNA. It probably connects in some way to his childhood trauma. After Slessman lost his mother, he may have resorted to nail-biting driven by anxiety. What did his hands look like?"
Entering the conference room, we spread out around the table.
"His hands look unscarred and his nails are long, clean. We didn't see any defensive wounds," Morgan says.
"None?" I look up. "That's... strange. But there's more." I turn to the crime board behind me where I've displayed most of the images of the victims' injuries.
"The injuries, they don't match up."
"Alright, torture master, what do you mean?" Morgan asks from the other side of the room.
"First off, please stop calling me that."
"I think it works."
"I disagree."
"Guys." Hotch interjects.
"Right, sorry. The injuries are inconsistent, as well as the rape. Some bruises are larger than others, but the angle is the same, meaning hit with the same hand. But there's still a difference."
"Did he use brass knuckles?" someone asks from the doorway.
"No. The damage would have been much worse. Also, the inconsistencies of the dump sites. Dumped with carelessness implies he's young, but the way he advances his killing method shows maturity. He shows no remorse when torturing them, but clothes their bodies."
"And he's too organized to be bipolar. He'd be devolving by this point." A woman's voice is beside me.
"And then there's the rape," I continue.
"Without penetration. Implies older age."
I nod. "But Slessman's younger. Of course, his anger matches the beating of the women and the aggressive rape."
"He also doesn't have the confidence to approach these women. They'd be suspicious of his insecurities," she continues.
"The inconsistency of the injuries, varying levels of remorse and confidence-"
"It's like his impulses are conflicting with one another. Two levels of aggression, remorse, sexual energy. Which means-"
"There are two of them." I finish his sentence.
"Charlotte Harris." Her voice is firm, but soft.
"Emily Prentiss."I give her a small smile.
"We have to talk to Slessman. If we are lucky, it will give us a name or a location, but it is unlikely. He is the submissive of the relationship and will be terrified of renouncing his partner."
Hotch nods with attention while he and I make eye contact. He looks at me precariously before going to the group. "Morgan, Reid, go back to Slessman's house and see what you can find. I'll stay here and try to get him to talk. García gave us the name of the security guard in charge of Slessman's wing when he was arrested. Prentiss, go with Rossi and Harris to question it."
"The couple can be their cellmate or someone they were close to in jail," Hotch continues. "We will have García investigate it."
Morgan takes out his phone and leaves the room to call her, Reid is still behind.
Rossi turns to the two of us. "Go to the car, I'll be right there."
I shake my head and turn to the door of the conference room, making a gesture for Harris to get ahead of me. She does it and I follow her.
"Then, Agent Prentiss-"
Interrupt: "Emily is fine." I say with a slight laugh.
She smiles again. "Emily. Nice to meet you."
"You too, Harris."
"Emily. How long have you been with the BAU?" We arrived at the entrance and stopped for a moment before leaving.
I turn around to look at her. "A few years." We finally got to the car as Rossi sat in the drivers seat.
"I've heard that there was a women here before me I think her name was Layla?" She says and I tense up I look over at Rossi who nods.
"Uhm her name was Leah, it's a tough topic for us." He says and I give him a small smile.
We talked briefly about the case, then we rode the rest of the road in silence.
🦋
We reach the prison in twenty minutes. Rossi parks the SUV and we climb out, greeted at the entrance by the head of prison security.
"You been here before?" Harris asks me. We follow Rossi and the guard toward the prison.
"Nope. But I've been to my fair share of prisons."
"We're looking for the security guard in charge of Richard Slessman's wing. He was kept here three years ago." Rossi says to the head of security.
"Yeah, I know the guy. Vogel was his officer, Tim Vogel. I'll bring you to him."
"Thank you."
We follow him through the prison to the first gate. A buzzer sounds as it slides open and we pass through.
"He's here, in the cafeteria. There," he points to a man leaning against the opposite wall.
He wears a guard uniform and has a baton strapped to his hip. Sandy blonde hair, approximately six feet tall, I can see the muscles of his arms beneath his uniform. He looks up and notices us.
"Thank you, we'll take it from here," I say to the security guard and walk towards Vogel.
I flash my badge quickly before crossing my arms over my chest.
"SSA Prentiss. Agents Rossi and Harris," I point at each. "We need to ask you a few questions about an inmate from a few years back. Richard Slessman."
Vogel stands straighter at the name. "Yeah, I remember him. Small, scrawny, always getting picked on."
"Did he have a cellmate he was close with? Or a group he would hang around with to protect him?" Rossi asks.
"Not that I can think of. A loner, that guy. Never close with anyone." He looks at me. "He in trouble for something?" he asks me.
"We're just tracing down some leads, that's all." My reply is short, devoid of emotion.
While he had his attention on Harris and Rossi. I catch his eye and a silent understanding passes between us.
His hands. Small cuts cover his hands. His nails are painfully short, bitten down to stubs.
"Is there anything else you can tell us?" I ask, turning back to Vogel.
He shakes his head. "Wish I could. Kid was a loner, never got along with anyone. Always hoped he'd turn over a new leaf. Guess not."
Rossi thanks him and we turn to leave. As soon as we leave the cafeteria I give voice to the notion going through all our heads. "He's lying."
A/N:
I cannot express how shocked I am. I started this book a few months ago just for fun and didn't expect anything from it. So thank you all for the votes and reading it!!!
YOU ARE READING
Mo grá
ActionWe often think, if we could change the past, We would be happy, content, no regrets. But changing past mistakes, only opens the door, For new and greater hurt, no more, no less. How often we think, we learned the lesson, That each mistake has t...