Uh Oh Is that Another Body
A lone car drives thirty five along the Eastbound highway. Its headlights barely penetrate the thick early morning haze. The Oldies station blares loudly for the nearly deaf driver, not that he would admit he is hard of hearing. Vietnam stole a lot from the man, but his hearing was not one of them.
A motorcycle appears behind the car, taking the driver by surprise not that he would admit that either. He grumbles to himself about the youth these days and waits for the motorcycle to pass him. When it doesn’t, he takes another look in the rearview mirror. The driver’s face is obscured by shaggy brown hair. His heart clenches up at the sight of it.
The car roars as the old man attempts to get away from the motorcycle behind him. It won’t leave his mirror; no matter what he tries he can’t get it out of the mirror. The old man’s car veers off the road, slamming into a large oak. Smoke billows out of the hood.
The soldier steps off the motorbike and crosses over to the driver side window. Glass crunches under his boots. The old man lifts his head slowly; his brain can’t seem to make headway as to what just occurred. The soldier breaks off a large shard of left over glass in the window. The old man opens his mouth to plead, but all that escapes is a gurgle as the glass is jammed into his neck.
Leaning in, the soldier whispers, “Hail Hydra.”
***
The conference room set up for the team is small — not that they’re complaining. It would just be nice to not be bumping knees with each other. Reid stands at the also very small board taping what he can to it. The small town police department is not equipped to handle a whole FBI team. Their biggest crime bust is four teenagers smoking pot in the school bathroom. It’s a big leap to multiple homicides.
“It’s one unsub,” Morgan states suddenly.
An impenetrable silence falls over the room. Reid squints his eyes. He can’t see anything in the pictures that would indicate just one unsub and the amount of bodies really points more towards a pair. There would be a lot of people to take out by oneself. The team looks to Morgan for further explanation. He stands and crosses over to the board.
“There’s something that’s been bugging me about this scene; a couple of things that just don’t align. Why didn’t the unsub just shoot everyone? Unless it was one man who had to switch to close combat.”
“If it was one man, what level of skill are we looking at?” Hotchner asks.
“This guy’s a professional,” Morgan speculates. “Hotch, we’re not gonna want to meet him head on.”
Hotch hums in agreement. This is a situation where you shoot first and ask questions later otherwise you won’t be asking anything ever again. If Morgan is right, they are seriously out-manned for this case. He opens his tablet, searching through the information so far. The scene did lack split profiles, even the deviations from gunshots were still very controlled. The unsub had complete control over the diner. They will need to wait for the ballistics report, but Hotch is certain they will find all the bullets came from the gun.
“What’s going on out there?” Reid comments, tilting his head towards the sudden stillness outside the office.
It’s solemn, no one speaking or moving. Some of the officers have their heads tilt down in prayer. A young man leans against a door. Hotch is about to go out to ask what was going on when Marshal Wilkins enters the room. He explains that an important community member has just passed away in a car accident. Hotchner lowers his head slightly. They exit the officer space.
An officer comments, “It just don’t make sense.”
It draws in Hotch’s attention, “Officer, what doesn’t make sense?”
“The accident. Art was a very slow driver and the first responders are saying he must have hit that tree going at least 65. He was such a good man, a vet. He used to volunteer with the local junior ROTC chapter; hell, most of the guys in here probably served under him in High School.”
After a moment of silence, Rossi asks, “I’d hate to be that guy, but we have to ask could it be related?”
Hotchner pulls himself away from the conversation and takes out his cell phone. Maybe the number of unsubs wasn’t the only thing they had gotten wrong. If the target wasn’t the accountant, who was the target in the diner?
He presses the phone against his ear, “Garcia, I need you to look into an Arthur Bradley and see if there is any connection to the diner victims.”
“On it like an alcoholic on St. Patrick’s day,” Hotch does not react to her comment, just simply waits, “It appears Arthur Bradley served with the old man at the diner. Huh.”
“Garcia?”
“The file is classified. Attempting to break in and by break in I mean coax it open gently and legally, sir.”
“Let me know when you’ve got more information.”
Hotch runs a hand through his hair. Morgan is right there really is something off about this case. If the old man was the target, why the brutality against the Marshal and his witness? It either has to be a forensic countermeasure or they triggered the unsub in some way.
Reid calls out to him, breaking him from his deep thought, “Hotch, the ballistics report came in; you’re gonna want to see this.”