Killer Profile

“You wouldn’t tease me, would you? Make things up?”

“This is as real as real deals come. I was combing newspaper articles that were written not long after the women’s bodies were identified. Emily Goddard, Casey’s mom, gave an interview to the Lake County Witnesswhere she was quoted as saying, ‘I have faith in Detective Denson. He’s dedicated and he’s been a good friend over the years. Casey used to babysit for his children—I know he will find my daughter’s killer.’ "

Prentiss’s eyes darted around the room searching for Hotchner. Everybody else was here—where was the boss?Finally, she said, “Garcia, hang tight. I can’t find Hotch.”

Turning to the room, she asked, “Anybody know where Hotch went?”

With a vague gesture, Reid said, “He’s in one of the back offices, trying to catch an hour’s sleep.”

“Wake him,” Prentiss said.

Shaking his head, Reid said, “He doesn’t want to be disturbed. He said—”

“Whatever he said, he’s going to want to hear this. Wake him.”

Her tone carried enough weight to propel Reid out of his chair and out of the conference room.

Almost simultaneously, Morgan and Rossi turned toward her and asked, “What is it?”

Prentiss held up a steadying palm. “Hotch’ll be here in a second,” she said to them (and Garcia, still online and on screen).

Their bleary-eyed team leader came in quickly, jacket off, necktie loosened, short hair managing to look mussed, and said to Prentiss, “Please tell me this is a major break.”

“Might well be,” Prentiss said. She nodded to Garcia’s face on the flat screen.

He leaned in at Prentiss’s laptop. “What is it, Garcia?”

The zaftig blonde reiterated what she’d told Prentiss.

Hotchner’s alertness sharpened even as his irritation vanished, and ice was in his voice as he said, “Garcia, tell me you have Denson’s home address ready.”

She said nothing, just punching some keys to give him the information almost instantaneously.

Hotchner’s eyes went to Morgan. “Morgan, get hold of Lorenzon. I want the two of you to pick up Jake Denson and get him in here ASAP.”

Rossi shrugged. “I could go with Morgan.”

Hotchner shook his head. “This might be nothing, but it might also mean the apprehension of an offender who’s armed and dangerous, and knows law enforcement tactics.”

“Right,” Rossi said. “So I’ll go with Morgan.”

“No. Lorenzon’s a street cop, Dave. You’re a profiler.”

“What, I’m not up to this collar?”

“It’s not a collar yet—we’re just bringing Denson in for questioning. But I want one of the locals in on this, not just the big bad feds.”

That mollified Rossi.

Just after midnight, when they should have been asleep in their hotel rooms (or at least, Prentiss thought, back doing their laundry), the BAU team was still in the conference room as Morgan and Lorenzon came in accompanying a very pissed-off Jake Denson.

The detective with the Yul Bry

Hotchner, pulling his tie tight as he rose to meet them, glanced at Morgan, asking a question with his eyes.

“He wasn’t at home,” Morgan said. “He was working—caught up with him at the Wauconda PD.”

Hotchner turned to the detective and said, “You always work this late, Detective?”

“Do you?” Denson said. “What the hell is this all about?”

“Have a seat,” Hotchner said.

“I’ll take a pass,” Denson said, folding his arms. “You see, I’m not going to be here that long. So I’ll just stand.”

“We need to talk about your case—the murdered girls from Bangs Lake.” Hotchner gestured to a chair at the nearest table. “You’ll be more comfortable if you sit.”

“How many times,” Denson said, “and how many ways, do I have to tell you where to stick your task force? You’re not getting my case, boys and girls. I started it, and I’ll finish it.”

Hotchner said, “We don’t want to talk to you about yourinvestigation.”

“No?”

“No. We want to talk to you about ourinvestigation.”

“What about your investigation?” Denson asked, confused. “You think I’m go

“We’re investigating you, Detective Denson.”

“Me?”

Hotchner’s hands went to his hips, elbows winged. “You haven’t been entirely forthcoming with us.”

“Why should I be?”

“Thing is, in keeping things from us, Detective, you’ve helped us develop a suspect.”

“I have? Who?”

Several seconds passed before he realized that everyone in the room was staring at him. “Me?”

“You lied to us,” Hotchner said.

“Like hell I did!”

“Casey Goddard was a babysitter for your family.”

Denson swallowed. “Not telling you that doesn’t make me a liar.”

Rossi asked him, “Would you let a perp get away with that line of bull?”

Denson turned toward Rossi.

But it was Prentiss who spoke: “Didn’t your mother ever tell you a sin of omission is the same as a lie?”

Denson spun toward her.

Only Reid commented next: “Holding that back makes you seem like someone with something to hide.”

Denson swivelled to face Reid.

Then Morgan, shaking his head, said, “I can’t believe we haven’t busted your damn ass already.”

Denson’s final turn had brought him back to his initial position. No one said anything else but all of their eyes were on him and his hands went to either side of his head like he was trying to hold his skull together.

“All right, goddamnit—I lovedher!”

If Denson was expecting looks of revulsion, he didn’t get any. The profilers were studying him, yes, but clinically.

And Hotchner pulled out a chair for him and the detective finally sat.

“She wasn’t underage or anything. It wasn’t like that. We’d known her for years, she was my kids’ babysitter since she was in junior high, and was like… like one of the family. I went through a rough patch of drinking and ru

Hotchner asked, “Did your wife know?”

“No. Christ, if she had, she’d have used it to beat me up even worse in the divorce.”

“How about the girl’s parents? Did they know?”

“I don’t think so.”

Morgan moved in. “How about the other girl? How about Do

“No! Hell, no.” Denson was shaking his head, furiously. “I didn’t kill either of them. I toldyou.… I loved Casey. When my wife moved out, Casey and me, we started sneaking around, because she was still in high school at the time, and her parents would’ve gone ape shit, and who could blame them? Finally she got tired of me, I guess… novelty wore off. I think I’d have stayed with her forever, if she’d’ve had me. All in all, it lasted maybe… six months.”

Hotchner said, “She didn’t love you, anymore. But you still loved her?”

Denson shook his head. “No. No, I’d moved on, too. I wasn’t some old perv stalking her, if that’s what you mean.”

“And you tried to keep us out of the Bangs Lake investigation so we wouldn’t turn this up?”

“Maybe. Maybe that was part of it.” He looked up helplessly at Hotchner, then his eyes searched out every other face. “But mostly I wanted to solve this thing, solve it myself! Why do you think I’ve been working so hard? I want to get the bastard that did this awful thing to that lovely, lovely girl.”

And he hunched over and cried. He didn’t even bother bringing up his hands to cover his face or catch the tears. He just sat there and wept.