Heurism | Spencer Reid¹

CHAPTER FIFTY: PARTS

TW// Detailed description of a dismembered body.

—

"Evil brings men together."

     — Aristotle.

—

"1996. The rib cage of a male was found in the Desert Rose National Park. It was never identified. This morning, the remains of two victims were found in almost exactly the same area."

As JJ speaks, I study the images up on the board — a severed arm and a male torso left lying in the dust. They are completely intact, save for a large hole in the torso. An involuntary shudder runs through me. Prentiss turns her chair to get a look as well, eyes narrowed in scepticism. "Well, one year later is cause for concern, but 10 years? That could be a coincidence."

My view of her is briefly interrupted as Reid stands between us, depositing a couple of files. "It would be, if the unidentified male wasn't missing a right rib bone."

"And the torso found this morning is missing exactly the same bone," Hotch elaborates.

Reid paces around him as he continues to talk. "Both of them seem to be surgically removed, and the advanced rate of decomposition on the male means that he died far before the female."

I look up at him from my file. It certainly messes with our victimology if the victims are of different sexes. "The arm belongs to a woman?"

JJ calls up another photo next to the severed arm, showing a blonde young woman. "Oh, Katherine Hale. They found a bracelet on her wrist. She ran away about two weeks ago from her small Colorado town."

"UnSub's crossing state lines. He's mobile."

Gideon enters, carrying with him a cardboard file box. I glance up at him, then focus again as Morgan picks up a few of the photos strewn across the table. "If the remains are related to the same killer, where's he been for 10 years?"

"Killing." Gideon drops the file box on the table and discards the lid. "Unsolved case files going back 30 years. Every case, the victimology is the same — the unwanted. This box is just the tip of the iceberg. 13 cases spanning 30 years. The same MO. Right rib bone was missing." I can't help but feel a little overwhelmed, faced with the prospect of catching someone who could do this to 16 people and remain uncaught. As we go through the files, he just stands there, a haunted look on his face. "It's him, Hotch. It's the same killer."

He nods in grim agreement. "All the remains were dumped in remote areas and always near Interstate 80. And up until now, no remains this intact or this close to the actual time of kill have been found."

"Never two victims dumped at the same time in the same place."

Prentiss seems just as thrown, looking between the file in her hand and those all over the table. "All of these killings, the work of just one man?"

"The most prolific serial killer ever."

——————

The heat of Golconda, Nevada, is oppressive. I can feel it on me, weighing in the air, drying my mouth out. It is far from the humidity of my Louisiana childhood. All around us, for as far as the eye can see, the desert rolls out. Mountains stand tall in the distance through a haze. Only dry and withered vegetation grows. Even my sunglasses don't do much against the sheer power of the sun that hangs overhead. Leaving our SUV parked with a few cop cars, we head towards a blue gazebo down the slope. An officer staggers out, retching and vomiting into the dust. "You seen enough, kid?" another officer sighs, coming alongside him. "Go on, get out of here." He catches sight of us and calls to someone inside the gazebo, "George, they're here."