𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

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𝟵:𝟰𝟲𝗮𝗺
𝗠𝗲𝘀𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗗𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁


𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖 handwriting samples, Spencer Reid was making his comparison. The tips of his index fingers were pressed to his thumbs, and he was muttering under his breath. Cady was watching with intrigue, and bated breath.

Having returned only minutes earlier, JJ was also interested in the outcome of Reid's assessment. But neither would be happy with the answer.

"They don't match," he concluded, straightening to look to his team.

Cady's eyes closed and her head rolled back. Yet another lead dissolved. Would there ever be one that stuck?

"How can you be sure?" Rossi asked, taking a step closer to survey the letters himself. "These tails, the space between words, they're practically identical."

Reid was shaking his head. "Mrs Ventworth is right-handed," he explained. "There's a difference in pressure with the letters, and minor smudging. While the elements and quirks are similar, our UnSub is left-handed."

"Okay, so she didn't write the letters," Cady conceded, throwing her hands into the air, her frustrations boiling. "It doesn't mean she's not involved."

"You're awfully quick to accuse her when you were just defending her husband," Rossi noted.

"I wasn't defending!" she snapped, looking up. "He didn't fit. She..."

Rossi raised a brow. "She doesn't fit either."

Cady grit her teeth before exhaling. "I just, I got a feeling," she admitted. "Kristen knew Georgina was moving to Switzerland. Ashton only said she was spending a year in Europe. It's unspecific. Why would Kristen know that much if it wasn't important?"

"Could he have been trying to throw you off?" JJ asked.

Cady was shaking her head. "But Kristen didn't say anything about the other girls; she's mad at Ashton about Georgina and knows she can pin that on him, but not the others."

"Agent Hotchner." Another knock from Trev, who now held an envelope in his outstretched hand. "It's addressed to the FBI."

Cady's heart almost stopped as she watch Hotch open it. A single, almost blank piece of paper and a half dozen polaroids dropped into his hand.

"Let's see how smart you really are," he read aloud, before handing the letter to Reid and the photos between Cady and Rossi.

"Can I get that blacklight?" Reid subsequently asked, reaching his hand out, to which JJ handed over the small torch that had been lying on the table. He clicked the button on the base and shone the light to the page, illuminating their UnSub's true message.

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔.

The photo in her hands was shaking before Cady realised she was the one shaking. "He managed to do this in 36 hours?" She was aghast, her breath stuck in her throat, handing the polaroids quickly back to Hotch. The images depicted a battered Sophie, screaming in some, likely on the very edge of death. She was naked, covered instead in deep cuts over the entirety of her body, her flesh stained red with her own blood.

Rossi made the deduction. "He knows we're here."

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𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 tight around her middle, Cady was staring out of the window. The brutalised flesh and torture of Sophie Rogers was fixed fast to the forefront of her mind, and now, the UnSub knew the FBI were here, investigating him. Would he escalate and kill Sophie to close off his trail? Were they too late? Was Sophie's fate sealed before they even arrived?

Her stomach twisted as the door opened when Morgan and Emily returned. Any news that came through that door was bad, and this would be no different.

"Ventworth's gone," Morgan announced.

Cady could almost feel the walls crumbling around her. Her coffee that morning was the only thing in her stomach, and it was threatening to make a reappearance.

"He boarded a red-eye to Hawaii," Emily continued. "Morrison's contacting the local authorities to try and apprehend him when he lands in Honolulu."

"The hotel," Cady muttered, looking over her shoulder. "He was closing the deal to buy a hotel. He might not be running."

Hotch looked to Morgan. "Call Garcia, find out when that ticket was purchased."

Morgan already had the number dialled, and it answered on the second ring. "Mon cher," Garcia purred over speaker-phone. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

"Oh, never, my sweet," he chuckled. "Can you check something for us?"

"Oui!"

"Ashton Ventworth boarded a plane to Hawaii this morning," he explained. "Can you check when that ticket was booked?"

"On it, back in a flash."

"Thanks, dollface." He snapped his phone shut, returning to Hotch.

"There was another letter," Hotch explained, cocking his chin to the array of papers still cluttered over the table.

"Cady was able to procure Kristen's handwriting," Reid added, almost excitedly. "But it's not a match."

If Cady hadn't been paying attention, she might have missed the faint waft of intrigue on Morgan's features. "How'd you manage that?"

"Played to her profile," she answered quickly.

The laptop in front of the team then lit up with Garcia's face, taking the conversation. "Ashton booked his ticket two weeks ago."

"So he's not running," JJ noted.

"I also found something else," Garcia continued. "He recently paid three traffic violations, two of which were parking tickets, one of which was in Parker, near the Cali border, and the third a speeding fine."

Something was ticking in Cady's mind, not like a clock, but like a bomb. "Do we have a photo from that speeding camera?"

There was clicking from Garcia's keyboard, before the screen changed and Cady's shoulders dropped with realisation. It was Oscar.

"Driving Daddy's Dodge," she almost laughed in surprise. "Or... his Dodge, but registered in Ashton's name." Her attention was caught by one of other the photos on the table in front of her; a family portrait of the Ventworths. "Oh my god," she murmured, springing into action and hurriedly searching in the array of file documents on the table.

Hotch was watching her. "What are you looking for?"

"The photos from Georgina's accident," she replied, her voice as rapid as her movements. "I had a feeling that something was odd when we were at the house but I just couldn't pick it. Damn it." She couldn't find what she was looking for. "Garcia, can you flip the photo of Oscar's injuries from the '04 crash?" she asked.

"Oh honey, you underestimate me," Garcia grinned. "Of course I can. " Her video feed minimised, replaced by the evidence photo they had seen yesterday, now mirrored.

"Okay great, and now pull up his yearbook photo."

Garcia obeyed, the two images now side by side.

Cady pointed to the screen. "Look, his birthmark."

Hotch's eyes narrowed as he and the team all focussed on the small brown mark beneath Oscar's left eye. Cady's words hung in the air and she felt compelled to continue.

Her finger traced down the cheek to the marks on Oscar's neck from the crash. "This seatbelt burn," she noted, "it was on his left side." She looked to Hotch. "He was driving. Better yet," she turned to the laptop again, "Garcia, can we see that ATM footage again?"

"You got it." She brought up the frame she had pulled from the footage earlier.

Cady pointed to the sunglasses. "What if he's not only hiding his face," she began, "but his birthmark as well?"

There was a beat of silence before Hotch spoke. "Garcia, how tall is Oscar?"

"Six one, sir."

"His mother said he was in LA," Morgan relayed.

"And you believe her?" Cady questioned, naturally still suspicious of everyone.

Hotch glanced at her; she knew the right questions to ask. "Garcia, check his spending," he ordered.

"Yes, sir."

"And his school records," Cady chimed in. "If he's been absent to do all of this, it'll show."

"Points to Cady-Cat for smart thinking." Garcia was already into the university system. "Oscar Ventworth has been absent," she paused, "over five months. He didn't return after Christmas."

"And his finances?" Emily chimed in.

"Well, he gets a monthly allowance from his parents that he then takes out in cash. His parents pay rent on an apartment in LA. They pay for everything actually, nothing traces to him."

Cady frowned, listening.

"However, I actually found something fishy on Kristen's statements. She has a mortgage on an older house, about twenty miles from her current home. She bought it five years ago, and Ashton's name isn't anywhere on the deed. Renovations and contractors were all being paid from her accounts up to a year ago, when the work was completed."

Morgan spoke up. "Send us the address, baby."

"There's something else," Garcia added. "There's a charge on Kristen's credit card for sterilised needles, silver nose studs, and hair bleach, shipped to that address."

Realisation finally dawned on them as all the pieces suddenly fit into place. Infatuation of Georgina, time with his victims, the letters, the photos, it all made sense. Fifteen-year-old Oscar had been driving illegally, with Georgina in the passenger seat, and Ashton had paid off officials and scrubbed it from Oscar's record to maintain his perfect family, while still never admitting he had been the one sleeping with Georgina. Kristen was protecting her son, paying for whatever he needed, including his own house, private from anyone else's knowledge, even Ashton. She might not even know of the women her son has murdered.

"It's Oscar," Cady looked up, finally making sense of something else that had clouded her. "In Gaelic, deer is 'os'. The name Oscar means deer-lover."

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 doorframe splintering was deafening, as loud as a gunshot as the door tore from its hinges. SWAT wasted no time, following the orders of Detective Morrison, storming the renovated home. Oscar was immediately apprehended, read his rights, and cuffed, all while he fought to voice his innocence, demanding to know why they were here.

It took Mesa P.D. seven minutes to find Sophie, locked in the basement, clinging to life. "Soph," Detective Morrison sighed gratefully, wrapping the teen in a blanket and scooping her up into his arms. "Come on, we've got ya."

As soon as the house was cleared, Oscar stopped talking, requesting his family's team of lawyers from the back of one of the police cars. Morgan had his hand on the door as he leaned down. "You can't pay your way out of this one, Oscar." The car door slammed as he returned to his team.

"He's lawyered up," he explained, folding his arms.

"We knew he would," Hotch responded.

Cady's gaze was fixed on Sophie, strapped into the stretcher that was being wheeled into an ambulance. She was unrecognisable; beaten and bruised, swollen and slashed. It hadn't even been two days, but Cady knew Sophie's life, as well as her body, would be forever altered.

Rossi put his hand to her shoulder, breaking her out of her thoughts. "You did good, kid," he reminded her.

"She's never going to forget," Cady admitted. "It'll plague her every day. Oscar killed a total of seven people. What good is that?"

"It stopped here," he said, pointing to Cady's boots on the paved street. "It didn't get to eight."

Cady exhaled heavily, her jaw still clenched.

"Come on," his hand guided her back to their SUV's. "Let's go home."

Home. The word seemed foreign to her. Where was home for her now?

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𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄 was finished, Cady couldn't shake it from her mind. It was an hour into their flight when Emily tapped her arm, seated next to her, opposite Rossi and Hotch. Cady blinked, not realising she'd been spaced out, staring at the polished wood table in front of her. "Hm?"

"You knew he was in college," Emily whispered.

"I guessed," Cady corrected, shrugging. "I wasn't certain."

"I think you should trust yourself more," Emily continued.

Neither realised Hotch was listening, his attention now away from the folder he had in his hands.

Cady sat with the thought for a moment, chewing her lip. Looking up, she noticed Morgan in the back corner, staring pensively out the window with his silver headphones set tightly on his head.

"Excuse me," Cady muttered, unbuckling her seatbelt and making her way over, dropping into the seat across from him. A micro-raise of her brows signified she wanted him to take his headphones off, so he obliged, letting them hang over his neck.

"Have I done something?" she asked, her voice low. "Said something? Offended you?"

"No." His answer was short and Cady wasn't satisfied.

She sighed. "Then what?" Her brows knitted into a frown. "You've barely said fifteen words to me this entire time, and I feel like that's my fault."

He sat forward. "Look, I've got nothing against you, Wilks," he admitted, and Cady's shoulders softened. "But this team is a family."

Cady had the tip of her tongue pressed firmly between her lips, nodding slowly as she understood the inflection. She'd felt this when she first became a detective. "And I'm the new baby your parents just sprung on you."

He gave a sympathetic smile. "I'm just wary. I don't know you, how you fit in yet."

"You and me both," she exhaled before realising what she'd said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." He reached for his iPod, pausing his music to give her the rest of his attention.

"How long does it take?"

His head cocked slightly. "For what?"

The admission almost choked her. "To stop seeing those things every time I close my eyes."

"I've been part of this team for almost ten years," he concluded. "I'll let you know if I ever get to that point."