Just Another BAU Case

The case should have been pretty straight forwards. 2 young men had been murdered along the river. Similar in looks, occupations, and hobbies, the case couldn’t be anymore textbook. With the victims being so similar, they were probably surrogates for someone in the unsub’s life. White, black-haired, lower class, construction workers who frequented local bars.

The complication came with the third victim. She was a young woman, middle class, who worked in a coffee shop. While she was different from the previous victims, the injuries she had sustained were identical. They all had evidence of being knocked in the back of the head with a bar of some sort, wrists restrained, and beaten to death. There was a lot of anger evident with the overkill.

“The third victim's roommate, Leila, is here,” JJ announced. Morgan and Reid looked up from the map they had been studying.

“Isn’t Prentiss going to talk to her?” Morgan asked.

JJ shook her head,

“She and Rossi went back to the latest crime scene”

Seeing that Reid had already turned back to the map, Morgan figured it would be best for him to join JJ.

“Had Callie mentioned anyone she was uncomfortable with or having any odd encounters lately?”

Morgan and JJ had been able to get very little information out of Leila because of the constant follow of tears.

Leila sniffled and shook her head.

“Did she mention a new boyfriend or hanging out with new people?”

Again, Leila shook her head, then the waterworks started again.

Morgan shared a look with JJ. This interview was not turning out very helpful.

“Let’s take a break for now,” JJ suggested, “Leila, I’ll have someone bring you something to drink.”

“Why can’t we find any connections between Callie and the other victims?” Morgan asked no one in particular when they were back in the room the police had set up for them.

Reid looked up sympathetically,

Prentiss and Rossi arrived back from the scene, and to the disappointment of the others, hadn’t found anything new.

They determined that just like the last two victims, Callie had been moved to a secondary location after being beaten to death. The idea of a copycat had crossed the minds of the profiler, but the murder included details they had not yet released to the press.

While the two male victims, Gilbert Hal and Louis McKimberly, had similar lifestyles, there was no indication that they actually knew each other. The only connection between these victims was the unsup.

“You have reached Garcia, queen of all knowledge,” Garcia answered the phone in her usual cheery voice, making the team on the other end smile.

“Hey Baby Girl, I need you to work some magic.”

“For you, always.”

The team shook their heads at the friendly flirting between Morgan and Garcia.

“I need you to find out if any of the possible connections you found for the first two victims could apply to Callie at all.”

“So here’s what I’ve got,” Garcia informed them half an hour later, “Both Hal and McKimberly have been arrested for aggravated assault a couple of times. Hal even spent some time in Juvie when was younger. Nothing on Jonson for arrests, but I did come across a number of calls to the police from her college roommate about the possibility of Jonson’s boyfriend abusing her. When the police contacted her, Jonson claimed no to have a boyfriend, and it was dropped.”

~~~finds out the male victims were part of an underground fight club, connected to a bar, and while at the bar....

“Do you recognize this girl?” Morgan asked, sliding the photo of Callie to the bartender.

“No idea,” he answered short-temperedly, “listen, like I told you, I’ve only been to these fights a couple of times. The ones I go to are completely legal, put on by different gyms, but I know a number of the fighters also fight for money elsewhere.”

Prentiss and Morgan looked at each other. Fighting could explain the bruises she was covering up.

After getting a name from the bartender of a fighter who might be able to help, Morgan and Prentiss figured they would talk to them before heading back to the station. Before they could call Garcia for an address, the sheriff said he recognized the name and got the address from a co-worker.

The house was in a nice neighbourhood, and definitely not where one might expect an illegal fighter to live, but appearances could be deceiving.

The door opened shortly after they knocked and a young girl, probably late teens, stood there scowling. Prentiss guessed this wasn’t the first time police had stood on her doorstep.

Good afternoon, my name - “ Morgan started, but she interrupted him, she was glaring at the sheriff.

“Get the hell off my porch, Kryzky.”

With that, she slammed the door.

Morgan turned angrily to the sheriff. “You didn’t see the need to tell us there was bad blood between this family and you specifically?”

Kryzky started to say something, but Morgan continued,

“You realize that this may have been our chance to find out if there was any connection between the victims, right?”

“It’s not just me,” Kryzky finally got in a word, “this family hates all cops.”

After instructing the sheriff to wait in the car, much to his displeasure, which he loudly expressed, Prentiss knocked again. There was no answer. They couldn’t bring her in for questioning without responsible cause. They were about to give up when they heard footsteps.

The same young woman as before opened the door, and asked with a slight smile,

“How can I help you today?”

The agents were thrown by the extreme shift in behavior.

“Hello, I’m Agent Prentiss , and this is Agent Morgan, with the FBI. Does Adrian Hunter live here?”

“Of course, come on in.”

Another reaction they were not expecting.

The profilers took in the house as she led them to the living room. There was a random selection of art, with no particular theme evident. Family photos portrayed a happy family with a father, a mother, a son and a daughter. The house looked lived in, not spic and span, but not a disaster. It all looked very normal - maybe too normal.

Morgan would have thought that they had the wrong name if it weren’t for the reaction earlier.

Because all they had was a name, Morgan had no idea if they were to expect the young man from the family photo, or the father - or even someone else entirely.

The young woman pointed at a couch where they could sit, and sat across from them.

“So how can I help you today?”

“We are looking for Adrian Hunter,” Morgan said, with slight confusion in his voice. Did this girl mishear him earlier or was she protecting him?

“I’m Adrianne Hunter,” she said with no fear or confusion in her eyes.

Prentiss didn’t miss a beat.

“We believe you may be able to help us with a case.”

Adrianne raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“Do you recognize any of these people?” Prentiss layed out pictures of the victims.

Morgan’s skill at reading people was exceptional, but even he had difficulties determining what was going on in Adrianne’s head. She was dressed in a tank top and sweats with evident bruising on her arms and, and possibly even a fading black eye. Her reactions were schooled, and no emotions were present.

“Why?”

Morgan and Prentiss exchanged a look, they were fairly sure Adrianne knew something, but didn’t want to scare her off.

“We are looking for connections between them.”

“Did Kryzky tell you I could help?”

So there was a problem specifically with that one sheriff, great, Morgan thought.

“No, we got your name from someone who recognized a couple of these people, and they figured you might be able to help.”

Adrianne didn’t answer.

Prentiss figured it was time to push a little.

“These three kids were murdered, and we are trying to figure out who did it so that we can stop them.”

Adrianne rolled her eyes, “well, duh.”

That was not the reaction the agents were expecting.

“I’ll help you on two conditions.”

Aside from the fact that it is illegal to hold information from the police during an investigation, the agents listened.

“One, I work with the FBI and not the police. and do not have to interact with Kryzky. Ever.”

Fair enough, there was obviously bad blood between them, and Morgan figured he’d figure out what when he got back to the station.

“Two, I do not get arrested for anything not pertaining to the murders.”

If she was involved in illegal fighting, that condition made sense.

“We are only interested in solving these murders.” Morgan reassured her.

“Okay then.” She picked up the picture of Louis McKinberly.

Morgan was surprised at how fast she trusted them, especially considering her evident distrust of the police.

“Louie is part of the … gang and has been for quite a while. He is a decent fighter, not amazing, but can hold his own. He often takes part in fights put on by a group in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Prentiss took notes as Adrianne talked.

“Foxy was actually a good fighter,” she said, picking up Jonson’s photo, “though I think she mostly worked with-” Adrianne paused, and corrected herself, “mostly participated in the fights closer to central park.”

“And that guy,” she pointed to the last photo, “I’ve seen him before, but I can’t remember what area he usually hung out in.”

Morgan was surprised at how much information she was willing to give them right off the bat.

“Were either of these two in a gang?” he asked.

Adrianne shook her head, “not that I know of.”

“Would it be possible that these three were victims of gang violence?”

“Unlikely, Louie was low-level, and they weren’t in rival gangs. Besides, gangs mark their work, don’t they?”

Changing track, Prentiss asked, “Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt these three people?”

Adrianne got up, and said thoughtfully as she pulled her hair into a ponytail, “not really, they were all very unmemorable. Not at the bottom or top, and not part of the in-group.”

The in-group might be a good clue, Morgan noted, but before he could ask, Adrianne grabbed a sweater and said, “I’ve got to go, but you can come back this evening if you’ve got more questions.”

Pushing wasn’t going to do them any good, they realized, and they had some good leads.

As they were heading back to their vehicle, a jeep came screeching into the driveway with loud music playing. They recognized the young man from the photos.

He nodded to them briefly as he hopped out of his car, still leaving it running.

“Adri, let’s go,” he yelled into the house.

Maybe it would be worth interviewing the rest of the family - it is unlikely that the daughter does illegal fighting and the rest of the family doesn’t know.

No one said anything on the drive back to the station.

“So what have we got?” Hotch asked, as everyone gathered again.

“All three victims did underground fighting, including Jonson, who went by Foxy, but they all were part of different groups. Only McKimberly was part of a gang,  but low level. Also, there is an in-group for these underground fighting that we should look into.”

“Where did you get this information?” The police captain asked.

The team looked at him, confused, they were used to trusting each other.

“We talked to Adrianne Hunter, who recognized all three victims.”

“She told you that when you approached her?” he asked in disbelief.

“We got her name from the bartender,” Morgan further explained.

“What’s the problem, captain?” Hotch asked.

“Ms. Hunter has a bit of a reputation/ bad relationship with this police station, and isn’t necessarily known for being the most cooperative. Who took you to see her?”

“Officer Kryzky.” Morgan was starting to get the feeling there was more than just bad blood between the sheriff and girl.

“Kryzky! And she still talked to you?” he asked in wonder.

“Is there something we should know, captain?” Hotch asked.

“Kryzky will find any excuse to arrest Ms. Hunter or her brother or father. She has actually come to see me about getting a restraining order on him off duty. I take it he did not inform you of any of this.”

“No sir,” Prentiss said.

Morgan and Prentiss were starting to understand Adrianne’s reaction.