Cowboy Like Me: Criminal Minds

Cold Comfort

The conference room had an unusually somber air as JJ stood before the team, the lights dimmed to highlight the projection behind her. A series of photos flashed on the screen—young women posed unnaturally, their skin gleaming under the harsh lighting.

JJ's voice cut through the silence. "Three women have been found in Olympia, Washington, over the last two weeks. Each victim was embalmed post-mortem and then displayed in public areas. The unsub is preserving their bodies, treating them like... works of art."

The team exchanged glances, the gravity of the case sinking in. Sloane studied the photos, trying to push down the unease pooling in her stomach. The victims looked almost alive, their expressions frozen in serene stillness.

Reid leaned forward, already flipping through his notes. "Embalming requires access to specific tools and chemicals. The unsub must either have professional experience or is stealing supplies from somewhere."

Prentiss added, "Funeral homes, hospitals, maybe even morgues. He'd need a lot of privacy to carry this out."

Hotch stood near the door, his arms crossed, his jaw set. "He's taking his time with them, preserving them for a reason. This isn't just about killing—it's about control. We need to figure out why he's doing this and what these victims mean to him."

JJ clicked to the next slide, her tone steady but grim. "The victims were all women in their mid-20s. Two of them were recent transplants to the area, and the third was a lifelong resident. So far, we haven't found any obvious connections between them."

Morgan leaned back in his chair, his expression dark. "If he's escalating this quickly, he's already hunting for his next victim."

Hotch gave a curt nod. "We leave in thirty minutes. Prentiss, Morgan, and I will work with local law enforcement to establish a profile. Reid, Sloane, and JJ—look into the victims' backgrounds. We need to know what connects them."

As the team dispersed to prepare for departure, Sloane caught Hotch's eye briefly. His gaze was sharp, his focus unrelenting, but there was something else—a tension in the set of his shoulders. He nodded to her, then turned away, his silence colder than usual.

The hum of the jet filled the cabin as the team settled into their usual places. Reid had already buried himself in medical journals, muttering to himself as he flipped through pages. Morgan and Prentiss were going over photos of the crime scenes, while Sloane sat across from JJ, reviewing the victim profiles.

"What do we know about their lives?" JJ asked, scanning the files.

Sloane flipped to a report on the first victim. "Andrea Blake, 26. Worked at a bookstore downtown. No history of trouble, no obvious enemies."

Reid looked up, tapping a finger against his notebook. "The unsub might not be targeting them for who they are, but for what they represent. If he's embalming them, he's preserving something he sees as valuable."

Morgan scoffed, leaning back in his seat. "Valuable? These women are trophies to him."

Hotch stood near the front of the cabin, his arms crossed as he listened. His expression was unreadable, but his silence carried a weight that filled the room.

Sloane glanced at him, her curiosity piqued. "Hotch, what do you think his endgame is?"

He looked at her briefly before answering, his tone clipped. "Control. He's immortalizing them, making them his forever. It's about power."

She nodded, though his short reply left her feeling as though she'd missed something deeper. He turned back to his files, his body language shutting her out.