Heurism | Spencer Reid¹

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR: SHOT THROUGH THE HEART

"Wild animals never kill for sport. Man is the only one to whom the torture and death of his fellow creatures is amusing in itself."

     — James Anthony Froude.

—

JJ and Sheriff Schaeffer arrive just in time for the profile to begin — the latter looking a little out of it. From his young age and his awkwardness, I gather that this is fairly early into his promotion. Hotch waits long enough for the two to get situated before he speaks, "We're looking for at least two offenders in good physical condition. They'd need to be, to make it around the terrain with ease and to cover each other from the predators around them. They will be operating in a team."

"As is typical in a killing team," I continue, "they will have a dominant-submissive dynamic. One calls the shots, the other follows. But make no mistake, the submissive is not being bullied into this. He wants this just as bad."

"These men haven't exhibited any sexual interest in their victims, so they're either developmentally prepubescent."

"Or," Reid offers instead, "they could be related. Immediate relatives wouldn't discuss sexual encounters, let alone perform them in front of each other."

I notice a few uneasy looks from the officers stood before us, notepads in hand. "If related, they likely have an us-versus-them mentality. They are close and don't like outsiders — probably brothers, cousins, possibly father and son. They've known each other since childhood, this bond is all they know."

Hotch nods firmly. "Usually, hunters put their prey out of their misery very quickly. They learn which areas are best to hit to ensure a quick death. These UnSubs are the opposite. They like to drag it out, to watch their victims suffer. They toy with them."

"Every spring for the past five years, people have gone missing. We think the killers wait for their prey to migrate through these woods," Reid explains.

"Courtney Jacobs, Shane Everett and Alex Harrison were all healthy, smart adults who survived for days by following their instincts."

"They found themselves in the middle of nowhere. They were either approached in a way that wasn't threatening, or the offenders waited for a moment of weakness."

We wait a little for our listeners to catch up, then move on. I lean back against the wall, arms folded across my chest. "The choice of weapon is not meaningless. These men have been hunting most of their lives, they likely grew up with it, learned well. They know the terrain, they know how to track, and they know how to kill. A compound bow takes precision and strength. No gunpowder to help them out. They'll have to factor in trajectory, wind resistance, everything. Each shot is different. They like a challenge. They're trophy hunters. And their favourite target just happens to be humans."

The officers disband. Hotch heads back to the conference room and Reid follows, but before I even know why, I find myself calling him back. "Yes?" he says, turning to meet my gaze.

I can't remember what I wanted. Pausing, I awkwardly jab a thumb in the direction of the break room. "I, uh... I need a caffeine hit. Want one?"

"I could go for a coffee, sure." Though I'm not sure if it was so much an invitation as an offer, I don't complain when he follows me. He stands with his hands in his pockets as I pour out two mugs. "You know, you seem to know a lot about guns."

The question isn't exactly one I expected. I chuckle, glancing up at I put the coffee pot back. "I mean, it's kinda my job."

"Yeah, but... I mean, it's my job and, beyond the science, I couldn't tell you much."