Each member of the BAU has a travel bag ready, usually filled with personal toiletries and a change of clothes, so they can head out immediately when an emergency call comes in.
In addition to grabbing his travel bag, Jack also checked out two Noveske N4 rifles from the armory and placed them in the back of the F150.
Driving from Los Angeles to Denver takes about 18 hours. Colorado is vast and sparsely populated, and the drive would pass through large stretches of uninhabited areas.
Not long ago, in that plane crash case, if the perpetrator, Vasher, had hidden in such a deserted area, the BAU wouldn't have been able to find him. Not even the FBI, and even deploying the military would make it hard to search such a place.
This is because much of the land west of the Rocky Mountains in this state is undeveloped, save for a few isolated Native American reservations. There are no proper roads, let alone infrastructure.
Of course, Vasher couldn't have hidden here. In a place like this, even if he set up a solar panel or wind turbine for power, there would be no internet, and cell service would be nonexistent. Using Starlink would essentially reveal his location.
Not many people enjoy driving long distances alone. It's too dull, with no one to talk to.
The reason Rossi wasn't too keen on traveling with Reid was just that—there was too much of a generational gap between them. Besides talking about the case or Rossi's crime novels, they had very little in common.
The thought of talking about the case for over ten hours or listening to Reid endlessly praise his own work was enough for Rossi to prefer driving alone.
But with Jack along, it would be a completely different experience. Not only would Rossi not have to drive, but they also wouldn't have to rely on the terrible fast food at highway rest stops.
In the truck's large fridge, there were marinated snowflake beef steaks, fresh tomatoes and onions, sliced bread, various ready-to-eat roasted meats, and even a whole roast chicken.
When they got tired, they could pull over, and Jack would fire up an alcohol stove. In a few minutes, he'd have a gourmet meal ready, making Rossi remark that Jack knew how to enjoy life better than even he, an Italian, did.
"Jack, you should've reminded me to bring a few bottles of good wine," Rossi said.
They arrived in Denver the next afternoon. The FBI office here was housed in a neoclassical granite-faced building.
From the outside, it was quite grand, with gargoyles carved into the eaves for drainage and a bald eagle emblem embedded over the main arch.
However, compared to the modern Los Angeles office, the interior seemed a bit dated. Even the elevators were the old-fashioned cage doors, likely older than both Jack and Reid combined.
The three of them made their way to the third floor, passing through an open office area, drawing curious glances from the agents. Soon after, whispers began behind them.
It was clear many of the agents recognized them. The plane crash case had only recently happened, and the Denver field agents had been part of the emergency response, so they'd seen the BAU team.
Not to mention that Rossi was an FBI legend. Many had heard his lectures on psychology or attended his training sessions.
A tall, attractive female agent with a beauty mark on her chin quickly emerged from her office, looking excited to meet them.
She bore a striking resemblance to a more mature version of Alexandra Daddario. Her eyes weren't as large, and her face was more angular, lacking the slight baby-faced cuteness, replaced by sharper cheekbones and a more ambitious, intense gaze. Despite the makeup, crow's feet were visible.
Jack noticed her professional attire was quite tight, with buttons noticeably straining, making it clear she'd prepared for Rossi's arrival.
"David Rossi, in the flesh! Am I dreaming?" The agent seemed genuinely thrilled, immediately extending her hand to greet him.
Rossi, ever the gentleman, shook her hand. "You must be Agent Moss."
"Oh, please, call me Jill. Can I get you something? Coffee, tea?" Jill Moss said enthusiastically.
"If you don't mind, we'd like to get started right away. This is Dr. Reid, and this is Agent Tavalor," Rossi politely declined and introduced his two companions.
"Dr. Reid, Agent Tavalor, thank you for coming," she said. But compared to her excitement over Rossi, her greeting to the other two was lukewarm.
Even though one was handsome and the other was charmingly nerdy, both of whom would usually appeal to mature women in their thirties or forties, Agent Moss seemed uninterested.
Whether she was only into older men or had specific designs on Rossi, Jack couldn't tell. But Rossi, the FBI's own James Bond, surely had enough experience that Jack didn't need to worry.
"You mentioned there were more materials here. What exactly do you have?" Rossi asked.
"Follow me. Trust me, you won't be disappointed. We've got a whole storage room full of S&M-themed art photos, erotic videos, and torture devices. But what really caught my attention was a manuscript—hundreds of thousands of words long."
Agent Moss held up a finger to emphasize her point.
"It's the deranged ravings of a sadistic maniac. I believe this could be a major case."
Rossi, unfazed by her dramatic language, asked, "Hold on. How were these items discovered?"
"They came from a storage unit in Norwood. The tenant was behind on payments for six months, so the owner had the right to auction off the contents. Two brothers, professional scavengers, bought the unit for $350.
"When they found these items inside, they called the police."
Agent Moss, swaying her slim waist, led them to a storage room, where she stopped and turned.
"Was there no information left on the person who rented the unit?" Reid asked from behind Rossi.
"No, the name was fake—Louis Ivy. We couldn't find any information on him, and he paid in cash. This was consistent even before he fell behind on payments," Moss replied as she unlocked the storage room door.
"From the materials you sent me earlier, this person seems to have a certain compulsive tendency. It's strange for someone like that to make such a careless mistake."
Rossi stepped into the storage room and paused.
"Well, he screwed up. Otherwise, we never would've caught him, right?" A hint of pride appeared on Moss's face.
Before them were two long conference tables piled with boxes—at least forty or fifty of them.
"Maybe I will take that coffee after all," Rossi said, slightly taken aback by the scale of the collection.
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