Chapter Text
Being called into the office was never something people looked forward to, regardless of what one's job was, but when you worked for the FBI, being called into the office was a depressing reminder of the realities of what had to exist for your job, that someones life had to be forever altered in some of the most horrific ways possible. When not even Garcia was attempting to crack a joking complaint about losing her Friday Eve, a night she took as seriously as she did a Friday night, it took none of the team long to decipher the despondent energy that filled the room and settled in everyone's bones.
A small knot grew in Spencer's chest, and the energy that zinged around the room felt...different, compared to the usual energy that accompanied their debriefs, and as logical as Spencer was, he knew from experience that goosebumps forming was often a less-than-ideal sign when he walked into a room.
“Okay, crime fighters, I know everyone was super pumped for their Friday Eve, but we’ve got an absolute doozy of a case in sunny California,” Garcia broke the silence, her voice that typically remained upbeat regardless of the situation was, for once, following a solemn beat. Holding the remote as she pointedly directed her gaze away from the board, her body tense in a way that's off compared to her typical posture. “So the Los Angeles Police Department is no stranger to the grit and grime of violent crimes. While that's pretty on par for cities of that size, there's been a worrying pattern the police chief over there has noticed and has reached out to us for some help.” When Garcia paused to take a breath, Prentiss took the opportunity to jump in.
“All the victims were lesbians?” She let the case file shut as she looked at the group, her eyebrows knitting in a mixture of concern and shock. Spencer's shoulders lifted for a moment before he forced them back down with a subtle breath, schooling his expression back into one of cool intrigue, not too invested but still concerned; no good would come from the BAU knowing his feelings regarding the case right now.
“Does the LAPD suspect this is a series of hate crimes? All three victims being lesbians feels more intentional than just a coincidence,” Prentiss continues, her attention split between Garcia and the crime scene photos on the board. “Not super strongly. None of the victims were visibly lesbian, not that being a lesbian has a look obviously, however, all the victims erred on the super feminine girly side, they were all open about being lesbians though, and they all had one place they were last seen in common, if you look further down, you'll see-”
“The Rusty Anchor?” Spencer's shock leaks through to his words before he can stop them, and he can feel the stares of his team, but the surprise of seeing the bar that had been his sanctuary in college mentioned in a police report for a string of murders was stronger than the logical part of his brain that screamed at him to be quiet, to reign in his tone and cling to the air of detatched intrigue he carried with cases like this.
Hotch speaks first, his eyebrows furrowed, “Reid, are you familiar with this area?” and Spencer can feel the silent curiosity that hides just below Hotch’s voice, but Spencer gathers himself as he answers, “Uhm, somewhat? Some of my classmates did their sociology final based there, and part of the grade was a presentation. It just suprised me seeing its name here,” It flows out smoothly, and Spencer wasn’t lying per say, he was just neglecting to mention that he was a part of that group, a smidgen of a lie, but he doesn't see the need to explain the reasoning behind why he was a part of the group; no good would come from it, no matter how close he and the team were, some secrets were better kept unknown.
“Mind explaining what the bar is for us non-LA kids?” Morgan teases, an easy smile on his face, though to Spencer, he can tell that he has clocked the micro-tension held in Spencer’s shoulders, and Spencer could only hope Morgan wouldn't comment on it.
One of the downsides of being on a team of profilers, any emotional reaction is much harder to hide. Having a rule that you didn't profile teammates didn't do much when profiling was second nature to nearly all of them. Honestly, the rule should be 'Don't verbally profile your teammates'; it was already the rule the team followed.
“The Rusty Anchor is a lesbian bar in the Los Angeles area. It was established in 1968, but gained its reputation as the lesbian bar in Los Angeles in the mid-1980s when its popularity spiked. Some have called it the West Coast's Stonewall Inn due to its strong presence in LA's lesbian scene,” Spencer explains, the factoids providing a smidgen of relief to Spencer's internal turmoil, facts were something he could always rely on when the ball of discomfort started to wind up in his chest.
“The injuries suggest that the victims knew her attacker; there's barely any defensive wounds on any of them, so I get why the LAPD isn't thinking hate crime.” JJ thankfully brings the group's focus back onto the case itself, and Spencer barely manages to swallow back a relieved sigh as he flips to the autopsy results. “Could be a scorned man," Morgan suggests, who had been shockingly quiet the entire time. “You said none of the victims were visibly lesbian? There's a chance a guy liked them and got pissed when they turned him down, especially if they weren't ashamed of being lesbian and told him that they were,” He continues, pen flipping between his fingers as he speaks.
“Wait, JJ, the victims were blitzed,” Prentiss points out with a snap of her fingers. “That doesn't track with the typical scorned suitor, or at least not a male one, he’d have the strength to attack the women head-on,” She theorizes, and JJ lets out a hum in consideration. “He could be insecure, too scared to attack them face to face. Maybe being rejected destroyed his self-esteem.”
“But there's no evidence of sexual assault on the victims. Typically, in the case of rejection, there would be a sexual component involved, but all of the autopsies found no evidence of sexual assault,” Spencer processes out loud, feeling the eyes of his team turn back to him. “Unless the choking was the sexual aspect, which could suggest the unsub is impotent,”
The clearing of Hotch's throat catches the attention of the team once again, eyes turning to him as he shuts his folder, papers lying neatly inside. “The LAPD has asked for our assistance, and given the sensitivity of cases like this, Garcia will brief everyone on the bar's history on the plane,” He says, standing up before giving the team a final once-over.
“Wheels up in twenty,”
Spencer can’t fully contain his sigh this time, feeling the ball in his chest retighten.
This was sure to be an interesting case.