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CHAPTER SIX: LIFE AFTER LIFE ( aka 03x08: lucky )
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THE NEW CRIME SCENE was a public restroom in an isolated park -- as expected, in Bridgewater. The heavy police presence seemed to interrupt the quiet nature of the place. Nobody else would've been around when Tracey Lambert, their newest victim, pulled up to use the bathroom. Her jeep was parked right by the door, unlocked. Her things were abandoned in one of the cubicles.
Dallis stood inside with the door shut, staring at the inverted pentagram painted there in red. Behind her were a neat stack of books on the closed toilet lid, most likely belonging to Tracey. They were placed there with care, organised by size and colour, and it struck Dallis as odd. It seemed almost obsessive, or maybe he was just taunting them, but this was different to how Abbey's body was presented.
"So, yesterday afternoon, Tracey Lambert told her roommate she was going for a hike," she said, leaving the cubicle.
Rossi was pacing the rest of the cubicles, finding them empty. "He was waiting for her."
"Blitz attack?" she questioned. "Like Abbey Kelton at the gas station? It's evident he targets low-risk victims, but what I don't understand is this--"
She stepped aside, gesturing for Rossi to take a look at the books.
"If the fingers were a message that us knowing gives him power," she said. "What do the books organised by colour and size mean?"
Rossi's expression was grave. "Our unsub was likely in a mental institution. The severely mentally ill have chaos all around them. When institutionalised, they're given order, taught to keep their rooms clean and neat. When discharged, they stop taking their meds and their minds fall back into chaos, but often they do one thing to keep some order back into it."
"So you believe this is compulsive?"
"I do."
"Okay," she nodded, bringing out her phone. "Let me get Garcia to work her magic."
Outside, she sought a moment of privacy behind the toilet block. The rest of the team were searching through Tracey's car just as Father Marks arrived on the scene. Morgan's shoulders bunched at the sight of the man, but Dallis trusted Hotch and the others would keep him in line, dialling Garcia's number and leaning against the brick wall.
"Hey, Hot Stuff, speak and be heard."
"Hot Stuff," Dallis grinned. "Thought that was reserved only for Derek."
Garcia scoffed. "As I said, he's in my bad books right now, so he's been demoted."
"Well, I'm certainly not complaining," she said. "I need you to look into Florida's state mental records."
