"I could help you find a good house in my community," Jack offered after a moment of thought. It seemed like the only way he could assist Emily at the moment. Maybe in a few years, he'd even offer to lend her money, but certainly not now.
Emily shook her head. "No rush. I don't want to put too much pressure on myself. I'll wait another couple of years."
With that, the conversation ended, and they refocused on the task at hand.
"Looks like this guy had a happy childhood, at least," Emily remarked as she pulled out a box of old toys from the entrance—plastic soldiers, a deflated basketball, and a baseball glove.
"Broad interests, physically active," she commented while digging further and uncovering a stack of children's drawings.
"These look like they're from the schematic stage," she added.
The schematic stage is part of a child's drawing development, often referred to as the "modeling stage" or "golden period." Children's drawings from this stage are full of innocence and expressiveness, with vivid emotions and imagination.
Jack recalled some knowledge he had absorbed from Reid's endless facts. "Schematic stage, that's between ages five to eight, right? Is there a date on them?"
"The back says 1985. So, this guy's about 40 years old now," Emily replied, holding up a finger.
"One to zero."
"No, one to one," Jack countered, pulling out a baby photo of a clearly Caucasian infant.
"The kid in your drawings has yellow hair too. That means the suspect is likely white."
Emily pursed her lips, conceding the point, but she quickly found something else.
"Take a look at how these drawings change over time," Emily laid out several pictures side by side for comparison.
In the crayon drawings, a happy family of four was depicted.
"Bright sun, loving parents, a beautiful home in a pastoral setting."
But as Emily pointed out changes between the pictures, the mother disappeared, then the sister, and finally, even the family dog. The sun vanished from the sky, and the idyllic home was replaced by a rundown shack in a desolate landscape.
"This is probably when his life took a turn," Emily speculated.
"Maybe divorce or illness. Losing two family members in a few short years, leaving just him and his father, who likely moved them to a small, remote town."
Jack began profiling the suspect's childhood. "His father probably became preoccupied with work and neglected him, causing him to grow quiet and withdrawn. But what triggered his extreme sexual behavior later on?"
He remembered the box of erotic magazines the FBI had seized earlier. Pulling out his phone, he called Rossi, who was likely still with Hotch.
Jack shared their observations and asked Rossi to pull out those old magazines.
"I recall seeing some really old issues of Boudoir, Penthouse, Hustler, Transformation, and Playboy. How old were the earliest ones?"
"The earliest are from 1982—Playboy and Penthouse—and they're in pristine condition, practically collector's items," Rossi replied with a note of admiration.
Jack scratched his head, puzzled. "The timeline doesn't match. We've estimated the suspect is around 40 years old now. Could he be a collector? But given his later tastes, it doesn't seem like these early magazines would have satisfied him."
"Maybe they were handed down, like from his father," Hotch suggested from the background.
Rossi chuckled, as if Hotch's comment had stirred some nostalgic memories. "I still remember my father's poorly hidden stash of secrets. He always thought he was so clever."
Jack recalled his own childhood and realized many boys probably had similar memories.
"The difference with this guy, though, is that he quickly escalated to more extreme content. Without parental guidance, he began seeking out more, and those easily accessible BDSM videos likely triggered a specific desire."
Jack's comment seemed to strike a chord, as the two older men on the other end of the line began reminiscing.
"I remember when I was interrogating Ted Bundy. He gave me this long-winded theory about erotic literature, saying, 'If you don't want more people like me, don't burn Catcher in the Rye...'"
"...burn Hustler instead. I've read your books too," Hotch finished Rossi's thought.
Jack could practically picture Rossi's pleased expression, as if Hotch had just stroked his ego.
Ted Bundy was a legendary serial killer, considered an elite class of sexually motivated murderer. The exact number of his victims remains unknown, with estimates ranging from 26 to over 100, all within a span of just five years, during which he even escaped prison twice.
One of the most bizarre aspects of Bundy's life was that, after his third death sentence, a woman who had narrowly escaped his clutches agreed to marry him in court. She later gave birth to his daughter.
Even more unbelievable, during Bundy's nearly ten-year stint on death row, countless women wrote him letters, some even declaring their willingness to die for him.
Jack remembered that Rossi had written about how, during the hunt for another infamous serial killer, the "Green River Killer," Bundy had offered to assist in the investigation.
Rossi had admitted in his book that, while the Green River Killer was only caught after Bundy's execution, Bundy's insights had indeed been helpful.
Ironically, Gary Ridgway, the Green River Killer, who likely killed more people than Bundy, was spared the death penalty by the U.S. justice system.
Jack ended the call, with the score now 2-1 in Emily's favor. The two continued searching through the storage unit.
"Bingo, 3-1! You've lost. Look at these," Emily exclaimed, pulling out a pile of textbooks.
"Engineering, mathematics, CAD user manuals."
Her voice held confidence. "He went to vocational school. He's either a mechanic or works in interior design."
"There's still hope for me." Jack wasn't deterred by the clutter. He dove into the mess, unearthing a large cardboard box.
"This is worth two points," he said, dragging out a pile of clothing. "Check these out."
"What the hell?" Emily's eyes widened as she rifled through the pile.
"The sizes don't match. And they've all been altered to be bigger. Do you think these are the victims' clothes?" Jack, unfamiliar with women's clothing, asked for her opinion.
"I'm not sure. But I'm leaning toward transvestism," Emily replied, frowning as she held up a dress to inspect it under the sunlight.
"There are stains on it, though... too many of them. Looks like they've been used repeatedly during masturbation."
She removed her gloves and pulled out her phone to take a picture, only to stop suddenly.
"Jack, my phone's camera seems to be malfunctioning."
Jack moved over to look, noticing strange white noise dots in the image captured by her phone.
A thought occurred to him, and he quickly removed his own gloves, pulled out his phone, and opened the camera. His screen also showed faint, strange white noise.
"I think we have a Geiger counter in the equipment box, don't we?" Jack's words sent a chill through Emily.
They both ran out of the storage unit. Jack retrieved a Geiger counter from the car's trunk and switched it on, waving it toward the storage unit. Sure enough, it started emitting a worrying beeping sound.
"Jack..." Emily's voice trembled.
"Relax, it's not too bad. Only 80 microsieverts. While it's higher than the usual background radiation by a hundredfold, the time we've spent here hasn't been long enough to cause any serious harm."
Jack reassured her with a pat on the shoulder and cast a quick healing spell on her.
However, the situation was now more complicated. They couldn't proceed until they located the radiation source, and they'd need to wait for the CDC and other relevant agencies to handle it.
Taking advantage of the downtime while waiting for the hazmat team, Jack called Hotch to inform him of the situation and advised them to check their side for radiation as well.
Thankfully, there was no radiation detected in the pile of documents and videos, meaning the source had to be somewhere in the storage unit.
---
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