❝spencer, all this week you've been holding my hands. what about your germ thing?❞
❝you were more important.❞
hazel finley is a liar. but she's a damn good one. and she's especially good at telling when other people are lying. she's the newest memb...
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❝Intelligence is quickness in seeing things as they are.❞
GEORGE SANTAYANA
✩
0.9 : surprise, surprise
OR
season 4, episode 2 : the angel maker
"THIS IS DELILAH GRENNAN. SHE WAS BLUDGEONED AND RAPED DURING THE NIGHT AT HER HOME IN LOWER CANAAN, OHIO." JJ clicks the remote to show photos on the screen, taking her seat nearest the TV.
What a delightful way to start the day. Fin beelines to the coffee bar, making it just ahead of Morgan, who clicks his tongue at her snappishly. She's gonna need coffee for this one; she can feel it.
"Lower where?" Emily asks, frowning.
"Small town forty miles outside of Cincinnati," JJ explains.
"Oh, wonderful, a small town where nothing ever goes wrong." Fin rolls her eyes, plopping down in a chair next to Rossi, who chuckles softly.
Spencer's looking up at the screen, analyzing it. "Staging the body face-up with the arms across the chest like that..." He trails off thoughtfully.
"Ritual," Morgan finishes, stirring his coffee with a spoon. "Nice hair, by the way." On the way to his seat, he pushes Spencer's hair into his eyes playfully, smirking.
Spencer sighs and brushes his hair back into place, disgust all over his face. "Thanks."
His haircut is really nice, Fin thinks. It's shorter, less curly, but it suits him, although she still prefers him with long hair, if she had to have an opinion.
"Uh, there's more." JJ draws their attention back to the screen, where she's pulling up more photos, this time of the victim's abdomen. "Small puncture wounds on her stomach. Note the lack of blood."
"They were inflicted post-mortem," Emily says, nodding. "Were there any other victims?"
JJ bites her lip cautiously. "Kind of."
Fin raises her eyebrows. "What does 'kind of' mean? How do you 'kind of' kill someone?"
"That's not what I meant." JJ shakes her head. "Victimology and signature match a serial killer from the same town ten years ago–six victims spanning over ten months." The pictures she's pulling up are almost identical to the first photos: blonde woman in her twenties, bludgeoned, puncture wounds in the stomach. "He called himself–"
"The Angel Maker." Hotch nods, looking up from his file. "I remember the case."
