EASY WAY OUT ¹ ➢ spencer reid

XI

"The unsub is likely a Caucasian male in his mid to late thirties," Hotch stood in front of local PD confidently, scanning the room as he spoke, "based on the single shot to the head his victim receives we know he has extensive knowledge in gun control. We believe he most likely worked in law enforcement, but was released from the line of duty."

"He's what we called a media influencer, someone who kills primarily for fame or to be renowned for their actions. These killers desire media attention as a way of validating or spreading their crimes." Reid added.

"The subjects of his killings are that of an experience he's had before," Prentiss said, "we believe he's reenacting these killings as a means of coping."

"Because of his law enforcement background we can assume he's injected himself into the investigation. He's following it closely." Hotch shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "He's meticulous. Everything he does he does for a reason."

The whole room stared in awe as the team gave the profile. I had to admit, even after being with them for days on end it was still impressive watching them present. Everyone had this infectious intensity that you couldn't take your eyes off of.

"If you have any questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to find me or any other members of my team." Hotch concluded.

We went back to work almost immediately. I sat in our makeshift office for hours, trying to come up with any information I could find, as well as a proper geographical profile. Unlike the last two cases there were a lot of interviews to be done, so I hung out at the station alone. It felt kind of nice to get away from everyone. It gave me time to think. I sipped my coffee as I stared at the map in front of me, wondering how all these places were connected.

"Hm." I tapped my mug curiously. It didn't seem like he had much of a plan. Each hit felt disconnected from the other. It didn't make sense. Three separate towns with nine very separate people. Other than the numbers themselves there was no consistency.

I pulled out my phone and called Garcia.

"Casa de Garcia." She answered.

"Hola," I responded, "I got questions."

"I got answers, my queen. Hit me."

"Can you check previous triple homicide cases in towns where this guy already hit? Go back like, uh, fifteen years or so."

For a while all I heard was the tapping of her keyboard and clicking. I paced around the room, staring at my feet as I walked. "Uh, there's a couple. You got anything else?"

"Hm." How did this work? Prentiss said he was reenacting a scene, which only made sense if we could actually find said scene. "Did any of them fit the same MO as our guy? Two dead cops and a civilian?"

"Uh," she clicked her mouse a couple of times, humming to herself, "ooh, okay! So, yes and no. There wasn't any that matched the same exact areas, but there was triple homicide five years back that's literally exactly the same as the ones you got going on. Single headshot and everything."

"Where at?"

"Silver Spring," she responded, "but get this, there was a third cop who was injured during the whole ordeal. His name is Micheal Brooks. Apparently after the incident he went a little crazy. He got fired from his job for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon."

"Let me guess, was it a .22?"

"Bingo baby."

"Send over his info. I'm gonna call Hotch."