Philophobia

Seventeen; Special Girl

May 25th, 2010
4:15 am
Las Cruces Police Station
Las Cruces, New Mexico

"Okay, after hours of research on VERY confusing exotic animal laws, I now know more about snake ownership than I ever wanted to. To own a Black Mamba snake, or any snake for that matter, you need a special permit from both local and state government. Most of the people who have these special permits are scientists or zoologists. Only one hundred and thirty-seven people have said very special permit in the state of New Mexico, twenty-eight of whom live within a one hundred mile radius of the Chihuahuan Desert," Garcia informed her team.

"Anything else you can do to narrow the list?" Hoth asked.

"Not unless you give me more information to narrow the parameters," replied Garcia.

"Try looking at people who have been to a country in eastern Africa within the past year and a half," Blake offered.

"That leaves me with seven people," Garcia said.

"Send the names and addresses Garcia. When you've finished with that, look into the background of all seven of them for anything suspicious," Hotch instructed.

"Of course Boss Man," Garcia said before hanging up.

"Alright," Hotch turned his attention to the agents in his presence. "Morgan, you have rapport with the Las Cruces medical examiner, call them to see if they've started on the autopsy of Jack Simmons. The rest of you begin on the files Garcia is sending over. You're welcome to help them Chief." The chief had been standing in the corner, observing the agents.

"Do we have any infomation on the flight student who called the first body in?" Reid asked.

"Ya. Name was Mathew Kristopher. Said he flies across that part of the desert all the time. He was at the crime scene yesterday too. We have more information in a file as well, from when he came by to give a statement." Chief Russel said. "I'm sure I could get that file for you."

"That'd be great." Reid stood up and the two men left the room.

"Have any of you seen Eliza in the past ten hours?" Hotch questioned. The other agents shook their heads, or murmured no. "Alright, keep me updated on those files. I'm going to find Agent Doyle." Everyone nodded, and Hotch ented the bullpen surveying the open room. He walked around for a minute, only to find Eliza sitting as a corner desk. She'd commandeered it during the shift change at midnight and was talking angrily with a reporter. She slammed the phone down as Hotch made his way over.

"I've been on the phone with a reporter from the Las Cruces times since one in the morning. Why he thought the official statement of the FBI would change from 'no comment' to something different every five minutes is beyond me," she stated, turning in her chair to face Hotch.

"How are you doing otherwise?" He asked.

"Fine." Eliza turned her chair back to the desk and scribbled something on the already busy legal pad. "Did you know, that if given the opportunity, some people would drive over fifty miles into the desert to be the first to publish a story about the crime scene?"

"JJ may have mentioned a few crazy offers like that." Eliza rolled her eyes.

"Hotch!" Reid cried, running across the bullpen. "I figured it out! The UnSub! It's Mathew Kristopher, though his real name is Kristopher Mathew."

"He was the flight student who called in the tip about Grace Hackett," Cheif Russel clarified.

"He entered the false time under a fake name, so he could inject himself into the investigation. Blake noticed the spelling similarities when she was looking through the files," Reid said.