Desiderium: longing for something that has been lost

chapter 3

the starry heaven above and the immoral law below.-- immanuel kant.

O.o.O.o.O.O.o

Private airstrip outside of Las Vegas

February 14, 2008

4:45 p.m.

O.o.O.o.O.O.o

February in Washington D.C, and February in Las Vegas, Nevada were two different types of February. Hotch quickly ditched his heavy overcoat, swinging it into one of the government-issued SUV's. Heaving a sigh, he watched his team, stumble across the tarmac, each one shedding heavy layers of clothes. 

He missed Haley already. And trying to catch a serial family annihilator did nothing to help his worry for his young family when he had to leave them behind. He grabbed the steering wheel tightly. Breathing deeply, he focused his mind on the details of the case. The details  had been bothering him.  It seemed empty, not complete. All though, it had been nearly twenty years, he figured differing accounts and paper rot had something to do with that. 

Morgan and Garcia slid into the SUV and he started off for the LVPD. 

"So we crossed off race as a motive here right? The Martinez's were Hispanic, Taylors and Reid's were white, the Harris's were black, and the Nelson's were a mixed couple." Morgan was flipping through the victims reports, trying to get a further understanding of why these people were picked. "And the Petyrs were white, of Russian descent." 

Hotch nodded. "Our Unsub was considerate when it came to race, it would seem." He glanced back at Garcia. "I'm going to need you to see if any of the victims lives crossed in any way: school, work, same grocery store, even if they passed each other on a commute." 

Garcia looked at him with shock. "Sir, I know you know that I am a genius and that I can find out most anything, but all that happened before the internet, ergo before the area of my productivity." 

He raised an eyebrow at her desperate pleas. "Start with the recent victim, they lived in the internet era, then once you have some parameters, find the victim's files and see if some of them match up." He pulled into the precinct. "I know it's not ideal, and I'm getting the feeling that the cases were documented poorly, but Garcia, I know my faith in you is well founded." He turned the ignition off and headed for the front door, leaving his two subordinates in shock. 

Morgan shifted to look at Garcia. "Girl, you better cherish that. I've worked under that drill sergeant for years and I have yet to actually hear a compliment from him." Shaking his head he followed Hotch into the precinct. 

Garcia reached up and touched a bow placed firmly on her head. "I will." She whispered to the empty car, then shaking herself, slid out of the car. 

The precinct was a busy place, and the arrival of the Federal Agents did nothing to add to the chaos of the station. A flustered looking detective hurried over to six of them, nearly knocking over a small stack of papers in the process. He flushed, obviously embarrassed about the mess.

"Hello, hi, I'm detective James Murphy, I'm the lead on this case." He brushed a sweaty piece of brown hair aside and stuck his hand out. 

JJ smiled and shook his hand. "Hi Detective Murphy, I'm Agent Jareau, we spoke on the phone. This is SSA Aaron Hotchner, SSA Derek Morgan, SSA David Rossi, SSA Emily Prentiss, and our TA Penelope Garcia."

He stood and nodded as each name was dictated. Hotch could see him struggling to remember the name to the faces. He decided to put the poor man out of his misery. "Do you have a room that me and my team can work in?"