It had been a while since anyone on the team had encountered such a brutal crime scene. Although the victim's body had been removed and sent to the coroner's office, blood, brain matter, and fragments of skull with bits of scalp still stained the artificial marble floor.
A bloodstain on the carpet beneath the dining table trailed into the living room. Judging by the volume, it was consistent with the type of wound inflicted on an arm or leg.
Despite the summer heat, the air conditioning kept the room somewhat cool. However, the constant flow of investigators in and out had caused the temperature to rise, and the lingering blood and biological matter were beginning to emit a faintly nauseating stench.
Clay appeared unfazed, closely following Jack. As a veteran, he was used to scenes like this and showed no visible discomfort.
Jack crouched near the murder weapon—a bloodstained iron "alebrije" ornament—and studied it intently. Looking up at the mantle, he noted several similar trinkets hanging there. Turning to JJ, he asked, "What weapons did Ronnie use in the attempted rape and carjacking cases?"
JJ flipped through her notes. "Scissors from a victim's backpack and a wrench from a car."
"What do you make of this?" Jack directed his question to Clay, who was crouching across from him.
"Uh..." Clay rubbed his nose, trying to recall his training. "Impulsive crime... Looks like he uses whatever's at hand."
Jack nodded approvingly and patted Clay's broad shoulder. Initially, Jack had been concerned that Clay might struggle to adapt after his military service. Such psychological hurdles were common.
But Clay was adjusting well and even seemed to enjoy investigative work. It was a pleasant surprise.
Jack's observations had revealed Clay's strong interest in criminology. During downtime, Clay was often seen engrossed in books on psychology and forensic science. His dedication suggested a promising future—perhaps even rivaling a figure like Jack Reacher: a brilliant investigator with imposing physicality.
"How did the ERT determine that Madison was sexually assaulted?" Jack asked as he followed a trail of blood into the living room. He directed his question to Agent Dodd, who was standing nearby.
Agent Dodd, a Black man in his 30s, had been discreetly observing Jack since their first meeting, his gaze filled with curiosity. Jack's reputation had preceded him, with stories of bravery circulating throughout the Bureau. Medals for Valor weren't handed out lightly, and Jack had earned two in just a few short years—a feat that few achieved.
Unbeknownst to Dodd, Jack had actually received three awards, including one as part of a BAU team effort during an anthrax attack.
If not for Jubal's introduction, Dodd might have mistaken Clay for Jack. Clay's sharp, battle-hardened demeanor made him stand out in a crowd.
FBI politics could be as cutthroat as any federal agency. Talent was essential for career advancement, but having connections was even more critical. Those with both were unstoppable—like the legendary Kate Joyner, who had seamlessly transitioned from Scotland Yard to the FBI, entering as a peer to Hotchner.
If Jack had known Dodd was comparing him to Joyner, he would have quickly dispelled the notion. He wasn't some larger-than-life figure—just someone with an uncanny knack for landing major cases, much like a certain fictional boy detective.
Jack's louder repetition of his question snapped Dodd out of his thoughts. "How did you determine the girl was assaulted? Was there another crime scene?"
"Huh? Oh!" Dodd blinked and gathered himself. "Yes, upstairs in her bedroom. Follow me."
Dodd led the group up the stairs to a bedroom door. Jack pointed out the blood droplets on the floor, cautioning the others to avoid stepping on them.
Dodd opened the door but stayed outside. "Ronnie assaulted the victim here."
The bedroom was a typical teenage girl's room, with pastel blue wallpaper creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. A small desk near the door held books and a few trophies, while a larger and smaller bookshelf flanked it.
Opposite the desk, a wardrobe and vanity stood in disarray. Blood trailed from the door to the bed. Donning gloves, Jack gestured for Clay and JJ to follow suit before they entered the room.
At Jack's signal, Clay carefully lifted the bedspread, revealing stains of bodily fluids mixed with specks of blood.
JJ turned away, visibly unsettled, and began inspecting the wardrobe and vanity. Makeup items had been knocked over—lipsticks and eyeliners lay scattered on the floor. Nearby was a pair of dirty ballet flats with frayed laces.
Jack moved to the bedside, examining the pillow under a lamp. It was filthy, smeared with red lipstick, black mascara, saliva, and snot.
"Ronnie forced her face into this pillow, leaving these marks. The heavy makeup wasn't her choice—he must have made her wear it."
Hearing this, Clay's face darkened. Compared to the blood-soaked scene downstairs, the implications here were even more unsettling. Sometimes, an active imagination was a curse.
To distract himself, Clay scanned the room for additional evidence. His eyes lingered on the wardrobe and the pile of discarded clothing near the bed. The dresses—all revealing, backless designs with spaghetti straps—caught his attention.
"It looks like he made her change into these... suggestive outfits," Clay muttered, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words.
"Ritualistic sexual assault," JJ concluded. "The revealing clothes, heavy makeup, and forced poses indicate a methodical crime, distinct from the impulsive violence downstairs."
A methodical pattern could work to their advantage. A purely impulsive criminal could be unpredictable, especially given the U.S.'s vast highway network and lackluster surveillance systems. A long chase across state lines could easily drag on for months—or even years.
The fragmented American law enforcement system didn't help. Local police often turned a blind eye to crimes outside their jurisdiction. State police were similarly reluctant to pursue cross-border offenders, preferring to avoid the FBI's involvement and its inevitable power struggles.
Although some improvements had been made, they were marginal. Greensburg, Pennsylvania, was better off than cities like Detroit but still bore the hallmarks of Rust Belt decline. Economic disparity meant police resources were unevenly distributed.
The Hargroves, a single-parent household, appeared relatively well-off. Their middle-class neighborhood likely explained the FBI's swift response.
(End of Chapter)
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