Chapter Text
JJ caught Reid as he entered the briefing room. "We've got one in Vegas. You going to be okay?"
"Is this because the most memorable time we had a case in Las Vegas, I accused my father of murder?" Reid shot her a sharp look. "I assure you, that was a once-in-a-lifetime mistake, and a pointed reminder that my memory is excellent, but it isn't perfect. No, I'll be fine."
"You used to live a few blocks from one of the scenes," she persisted, angling herself so he couldn't quite get past her without making it obvious what he was doing, to the rest of the team.
"And my mother's house was examined as a possible crime scene, the last time I was in town. I assure you, once again, I'm quite done with unpleasant journeys down false-memory lane, thank you." He gestured for her to precede him into the room. "A few blocks from where I lived means we're probably not looking at a showgirl strangler."
JJ shook her head and took the remote out of her pocket, turning on her laptop as she crossed the room. "Three Hispanic women, between twenty-five and thirty-five, two dumped by churches, one left on top of the parking garage of a federal building, all in downtown Las Vegas. All three worked nights, and all three were Catholic and wearing crucifix jewellery at the time of their deaths."
"Were they wearing it? We're sure it wasn't put on them?" Alvez asked, looking at the photographs on the screen.
"According to friends and family members, the jewellery does belong to the victims." JJ nodded, looking down at her notes. "All three were also working nights."
Glancing over her shoulder, she brought up the police photos of the first scene. "The first victim is Martina Veracruz, twenty-six years old, with a degree in English literature from UNLV. She would have been working until about five in the morning, as a night baker at a casino hotel I can't read the name of. Reid?"
Reid looked at his tablet and shook his head, holding a hand out for the hard copy, which he tilted and squinted at for a few moments. "Did they fax this? That looks like a greasy thumbprint."
"Doesn't matter. We'll ask when we get there." Prentiss shook her head and looked back at the screen. "And what is Las Vegas doing faxing reports? They're a major city, and it's the twenty-first century."
"It's like trying to get Reid to answer email," Rossi teased.
Reid smiled tightly at JJ. "So, she left work at five, and the body was found...?"
"Around seven, when the church was opened for the Sunday morning mass. She was left in the church courtyard, propped against the fountain in front of the... I think that's a Virgin Mary shrine. Shouldn't it be St. Joan?" JJ pushed the button to load the next image. "Either way, the body was arranged in such a way as to appear to be praying at the shrine, the hands bound together. The legs, however, were removed and not found at the scene."
"The... legs." Simmons stared at the photos on the screen. "Just the legs were removed?"
"Just the legs. All three victims," JJ confirmed.
Reid made a small interested sound, and then shook his head.
"What?" Prentiss asked.
"Not without more evidence."
"The second victim is Daniela Alvarado, thirty-one, a convenience store clerk who was also working nights, but not graveyard. She got off at midnight, and her co-workers said she usually stopped off somewhere to eat, before going home, which they know, because she'd say it on her way out the door." JJ clicked to bring up the crime scene photos of the second victim. "She was found in the parking lot of St Joseph's church, posed against the fence, as if praying to the cross by the parking lot entrance. Again, the hands are bound together and the legs are missing, entirely."
Reid bounced his pencil eraser off the table, staring intently into space.
"Reid?" JJ asked.
He shook his head. "What's the third?"
Simmons reached up the table and dropped his hand on the tapping pencil.
"Hm?" Reid glanced at Simmons inquisitively, then followed his arm down. "Sorry."
"The third victim is Beatriz Ortega, twenty-eight, a pharmacy assistant at an all-night pharmacy a few blocks from where she was found. She was working the night shift, there, and co-workers say she used to walk home, though she was headed in the opposite direction from where she lived, to end up at the, ah..." JJ's eyebrows lifted. "Federal Justice Tower. Who names government buildings? Unusually, her body was found on the top deck of the parking structure, no church or shrine in sight, this time, but she's been bound upright against a lighting pole, facing the door of the building, hands bound as if praying, legs missing, as in the other two cases."
Reid dropped his pencil on the table and leaned back, looking faintly disgusted. "The third is at a law enforcement hub. Why not a church, like the first two? I thought it might be religious, perhaps a comment on the victims' sexual availability -- either that they were promiscuous somehow, and never closed their legs, so to speak, or the opposite -- that they wouldn't open their legs to our killer until those legs were removed from the picture. Any sign of sexual assault?"
"Ah... nope." JJ shook her head.
Rossi nodded. "Reid's got a point. The first two victims being left at churches, and all three being posed as if praying definitely speaks to a religious motive. All three victims were Hispanic women, in their late twenties and early thirties, walking alone either at night or in the very early morning, which might imply a certain sexual availability, especially in Sin City."
"Every woman out at dawn in Las Vegas isn't a hooker, Rossi," Reid argued, oddly defensive, as he picked up his pencil again, turning it point to eraser to point through his fingers, over and over, tapping it against the table.
"No, but to a certain type of mind, every woman is a prostitute waiting to happen, and the hour just deepens the assumption."
"I'll let you have that." Reid nodded. "But, we're on the wrong track. It's not sexual."
"It's not blatantly sexual," Alvez corrected.
"There are no signs of sexual assault." Reid rubbed his eyes with the hand not tapping the pencil on the table. "All three victims were religious?"
"All three wearing crucifix jewellery, confirmed Catholic by family and friends," JJ confirmed. "And we're still waiting to hear which churches they attended, but the first victim, Veracruz, wasn't attached to St Joan's. The priest who found her didn't know her."
"Legs and Catholicism still seems... purity-related. Sexual or anti-sexual in nature." Reid paused, tipped his head. "Or I'm looking at this wrong, and it's about them being Hispanic, and in the eyes of a certain currently rising percentage of the population, border-jumpers. Which would explain why one of them was found in the parking garage of the local ICE offices, not that they're the only thing in the building. But, why would they be praying, if that were the case?"
"Forgiveness for their sins?" Prentiss asked. "We'll talk about it on the plane. Wheels up in forty-five, because I want to get breakfast."
"Bless you." Simmons clutched at the edge of the table, for a moment, looking exaggeratedly like he'd fall over without another cup of coffee.