Although everyone was aware of certain unspoken things, Jack and Jeje remained cautious about keeping their distance while working a case, especially during an ongoing investigation. This time was an exception, though, as Jack had spent two days as a "porn examiner" and felt the need to reset his "sexuality" inclinations.
The destination they were headed to today was far from Denver. Although Jack's Ford F-150 Raptor didn't have a police siren, he brought along a portable police light since he was using his private vehicle for work.
With the flashing light on, the Raptor sped down the road at 100 miles per hour (160 km/h), and they finally reached Pagosa Springs just before noon.
Pagosa Springs is a well-known tourist destination in Colorado, home to what's said to be the deepest geothermal hot spring in the world, along with a large resort built around it.
Their destination today was a house located in a middle-class community on the outskirts of the county. Jack knocked on the door and presented his FBI badge.
"Mr. Overholt? I'm Agent Tavore, and this is Agent Rossi."
The middle-aged white man who answered the door blinked in surprise. Glancing briefly at the young boy playing behind him, he stepped forward and closed the door partially behind him.
"FBI? Is there something I can help you with?"
Rossi put away his badge and asked, "You've been living here for four years, correct?"
The man, Overholt, nodded, looking a bit puzzled.
"Then I assume you're aware of what happened here before you bought the place?" Rossi probed gently.
Overholt exhaled slowly, seemingly having guessed why the agents had come. He whispered, "My son doesn't know about it. I don't want him to be scared."
"Of course," Jack said, stepping back a couple of feet to give them some space to talk.
"We understand. We just need to take a look at the basement."
"No problem. Wait here," Overholt said before going back inside to get the key. He returned shortly and motioned for the agents to follow him.
They walked around the porch to the side of the house, where Overholt spoke more freely. "If the realtor hadn't dropped the price to a fifth of the surrounding property values, I wouldn't have bought this place. Ever since I moved in, I've kept the basement locked. You know how it is, after all… the history here."
He paused, offering a somewhat awkward smile. "I haven't had much use for it anyway. Whenever it rains, it floods, gets damp, and the wiring is a mess."
Behind the house, he unlocked a padlock and opened the cellar doors, which were angled about 60 degrees to the ground.
"Uh, hope you don't mind going down on your own."
Jack took out a flashlight and led the way, with Rossi following closely behind. "We won't be long."
The basement was quite large, about 50 to 60 square meters, but the musty smell confirmed Overholt's claims—damp and rarely visited.
This was good news for Jack and Rossi, as it suggested that many of the scene's original traces might have been preserved.
The BAU isn't the CSI. They don't need hard evidence that can stand up in court. What might be a disaster for the CSI—evidence inadmissible in court—is often crucial for the BAU in creating a psychological profile of the suspect.
"Interested in recreating the crime?" Rossi asked, turning on his own flashlight as he trailed Jack.
"Uh..." Jack flipped through the files Garcia had sent, using the coroner's report to recreate the suspect's actions based on the injuries found on the victim.
"The suspect must have planned this for a long time. Posing as a prospective buyer, he made an appointment with Diana Foster, the real estate agent. After seeing the main rooms of the house, he casually asked if he could check out the basement before leaving.
Unlike in California, basements are common in Colorado because of the tornadoes. Diana Foster didn't think much of it and led him down here, just like we're doing now."
"And then, wham!" Rossi mimed a blow to Jack's head with his flashlight, continuing, "He knocked her out, closing the door behind him. Down here, with the basement far from any neighbors, he could do whatever he wanted without even bothering to gag her. That might have been part of his thrill."
Jack's flashlight illuminated a wooden support beam that had clear rope marks from being repeatedly rubbed.
"The autopsy report noted bruises on the victim's arms. She was strung up, just like the drawings he made."
"Damn," Jack muttered, hating his vivid imagination at that moment. Terms like "single-pillar tie" and "double-pillar tie" floated into his head, once again messing with his otherwise normal inclinations.
"The victim was tortured for a long time before being electrocuted. The suspect likely got more excited watching her body convulse uncontrollably from the shocks."
"The coroner's report said the electrical burns didn't match a cattle prod or a Taser. Do you think he used the device from his drawings?" Rossi asked, confused.
Jack shook his head. "That kind of device would require a large battery, which would be impractical to carry. Maybe he modified it later, but I'm more inclined to think he used whatever was available on-site."
He glanced around at the wiring, kicked aside some debris, and revealed an outlet box on the wall. He gave it a light push, and the cover fell off. It had clearly been tampered with.
"The outlet box was crudely modified, and there are clamps still attached to the wires."
Rossi smirked, "This guy's got some skills."
Jack thought back to the pile of textbooks they had found in the warehouse. "This guy may not have had higher education, but he was a diligent student at vocational school."
Rossi sighed, "He's too practiced. There's no way Diana Foster was his first victim. He planned everything meticulously, taking advantage of every factor, and had plenty of time to savor it all. Not a single mistake."
The basement yielded no more significant discoveries. After saying their goodbyes to the current homeowner, Jack and Rossi hit the road back to Denver.
The F-150 Raptor, with its flashing lights, raced down the highway again until Rossi's phone rang. He raised a finger, signaling Jack to slow down when he saw that the video call was from Garcia.
"We've found three more female victims matching the profile, ages ranging from 31 to 38. Their bodies were found along highways in New Mexico, Kansas, and Utah.
All of them had electrical burns consistent with the injuries we've seen before. Oh God, this is terrifying. I'm definitely going to have nightmares tonight," Garcia said, her voice uncharacteristically somber.
Rossi, unsure how to comfort her, stuck to business. "Garcia, when were they killed?"
"Between the fall of 2012 and 2014. I'm cross-referencing the information with the federal missing persons database. Because the bodies were dumped across state lines, they were classified as Jane Does and didn't receive further investigation.
By the time you get back to Denver, I should have all the data ready."
Ah, the charming quirks of federal cases. Because the victims weren't residents of the state where they were found, they were labeled as Jane Does, and nobody bothered to spend the time seeking permission to search the federal missing persons database.
Jack, listening in as he drove, rolled his eyes in silent disapproval.
"Thanks for your hard work, Garcia," Rossi said, hanging up the call. Turning to Jack, he added, "Looks like this is just the beginning. Unfortunately, Agent Moss was right—another Ted Bundy or 'Green River Killer'-type serial murderer. I can already imagine the media reaction."
Jack snorted. "I'm not sure how the media will react, but Moss's barely-contained excitement is already playing out in my mind. The thought of her getting thrilled over discovering more bodies makes my skin crawl."
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