Think Again

We waited thirty minutes for the police of Little Rock to form a SWAT team that would take us to the Switzer home. Two SWAT cars and two SUVs came followed by us. Spencer, Derek, and I strapped ourselves into our bullet proof vests and removed our guns from our holsters.

"A revolver," I asked, nodding at Spencer's gun, "Really?"

"Not now," hissed Derek.

I flinched, "Right, sorry."

We broke up, Morgan going through the front, while Spencer and I went around back. I was with the team that would investigate the shed while Spencer's team was going through the back door. We waited for both teams to enter the house before we entered the shed.

I was the last in, holding my gun up, but lowered it when I saw Betty Stark on a gurney against the wall on the left. Her chest rose and fell lightly telling us she was breathing. Rushing over, I noticed that her feet and lower legs were bandaged, as well as her eyes. Using my radio, I secured her, and called for paramedics.

She woke at the sound of our moving and moaned. I placed my hand on her forehead and said, "It's okay, Betty.... I'm with the FBI. We've got you, it's all over."

I stayed in the room with Betty, until Derek announced the successful arrest of Carl Switzer. Once that was cleared, paramedics took her away to the ambulance where she would be rushed to a hospital. I was still in the shed when Derek and Spencer came. I was looking around horrified at what I saw. Spencer nudged me, while Derek wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

The walls were lined with skin, some of it - the freshest - looked like it could have been Harmony's. Others looked like they would crumble if you breathed on it. A work table was on the wall opposite the gurney, lampshade frames were scattered over the surface, some had skin stretched across, some were unfinished. On the far wall, at the back of the shed, were Polaroids of what looked like all of the victims Carl had ever had. As I moved closer, I gasped in horror at the sight of Carl wearing each face.

The faces looked like Halloween masks, their mouths stretching over Carl's, opened like they were screaming. The eye lids were removed so they wouldn't interfere with his own, giving the faces a terrified feel to them. Images from my abduction came and I backed away. Turning, I moved past Spencer and Derek and out past the house. I unstrapped my vest and I got into the back of our SUV, curling into a ball on the back bench, burying my face in my knees. Tears leaked slowly from my eyes.

The door opened and Derek got in the back seat with me, pulling me into his lap. Spencer sat in one of the middle seats and turned to look at us.

"What's wrong, Kels," Derek asked.

Sniffing I lifted my head and wiped my eyes, "I'm sorry," I said, "I'm sorry.... I should have... been able to hold this in better."

"Bull shit, Kelsie. Do you want to talk about it?"

I sniffed, "I just... don't want to go back in there. I... I can't look at those pictures."

Derek nodded, "That's okay, you don't have to."

I nodded, "Thanks."

"Take as long as you need to pull yourself together. Reid, stay with her."

Derek climbed out of the car and it was just Spencer and myself. At first I was quiet, but then the need to explain myself took over.

"H-He used a mask," my voice was very heavy, "My... abductor used a mask."

"A mask?"

"One of those Scream masks.... That's why I don't like the movies. Those pictures-"

"You don't have to explain," Spencer gave an apologetic smile.

I nodded, "I know...." sighing, I forced myself to stop crying and I looked at Spencer, "Thanks for um... coming to check on me. You and Derek are great friends."

He smiled and got out of the car to allow me a moment alone to fix myself.

~Spencer's POV~

I was happy.

Or as happy as one could be after they find a room full of horrific madness.

But I was happy. Keslie considers me a great friend. Now my actions with her are totally justified, and I can start to know her better as well.

Right now, I was standing in between her and Morgan, looking out through a two way mirror at Carl Switzer who sat alone in an interrogation room. He declined his right to an attorney, probably for the better. We've got him now, there's no where to run.

We were currently waiting for the rest of our team to come here, along with Earl Switzer, the police chief in Hope, and the families of Harmony and Betty. The three of us were offered this small room and an endless supply of coffee. We were getting ready to ask him questions about why he did this - to get a confession.

"So... who's up for a card game on the way home," said Kelsie trying to start a light conversation while we waited, "I'm pretty beast at race solitaire."

Morgan smiled slightly, "Never heard of it."

"I'll teach you."

A knock came from the door and Hotch, Rossi, and JJ joined us, along with both the police chiefs from Hope and Little Rock.

"Sorry to keep you guys waiting," said Rossi.

Kelsie smiled, "God I feel like I've aged ten years.

Rossie smiled back, "I'm sure you do."

Hotch looked at me, "I want you and Dave in on this one."

I nodded, "Yeah, sure."

"Lets do this." Rossi nodded at me and I followed him out into the hallway, then through an other door into the room. "Carl Switzer, I'm Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi, and this is Doctor Spencer Reid."

Carl didn't respond.

Rossi and I sat in the chairs across from him and were silent.

"Well... what do you want?" Carl was nervous.

"We want to know... why you did this." Rossi said.

Carl frowned, "Look at me! I'm a monster. Hideous. My face is ruined."

"According to your brother a face is just a face," said Rossi, "You think differently?"

"Earl," he scoffed, "He says beauty is in the skin... that the face is totally unimportant anymore, but he's wrong. After what happened to me, all anyone focuses on is my face. All anyone looks at is my face. My face became who I am, and I hate it."

"Your views on beauty are different than your brother's," I noted, "Have they always been that way?"

"The face, Doctor Reid, is everything. You can sculpt and mold your body all you want, but what's really important... what everyone will notice first no matter what, is the face. My brother and I were born with beautiful faces, but now.... Now I look like I crawled out of the depths of Hell."

"Is it because of your self loathing that you do this?"

"Not self loathing... self disgust."

"How do you find your victims," I asked.

"I work as a janitor in all of the hospitals my brother works in. I see every patient that walks through his office door before he does."

"So you select from your brother's clients," Rossi nodded, "Do you select from others?"

"No."

"Why your brother," I asked, "Weren't you concerned that he would get blamed for the disappearances?"

"He hadn't thought about it," Rossi said.

"How do you pick your victims?"

Carl frowned, "Some people - most people - need plastic surgery. However, there is the rare person who is so beautiful, so god like, that they will never need it. But in today's society, plastic surgery is seen as a must do for everyone. So I sit by, and I watch as beautiful men and beautiful women walk into my brother's office and demand that he alters their looks. It's unfair! They were given a gift, and they toss it away."

"You choose the people who don't need plastic surgery, because they have what you lost."

"Yes."

"Why do you remove the eyes," I asked, "Are they special?"

"No.... I just don't want them looking at me while I cut them. I couldn't work knowing that they were staring at my face."

"How did you do it," Rossi asked, "Walk us through it, step-by-step."

Carl smiled, "I ambush them by their cars and give them a shot of horse tranquilizer. Knocks them out, real fast and real good. Then I take them to the shed and dope them up so they can't feel their eyes being cut out of their skulls. I use duck tape to tie them to the table and to cover their mouths so they can't scream.... Then I cut them."

"Why bother keeping them alive," Rossi asked, "Why do they need to feel their skin being removed?"

"Because they need to be taught a lesson. If you're going to alter the beauty that was given to you, then you don't deserve it at all."

"Why the change in the way you skin people?"

"I-I don't know."

"Yes you do... you liked it too much. You liked the feeling of your blade slicing through their flesh. You liked feeling that you could do something so horrible to someone, yet make every cut flawless. You needed to take more skin... the compulsion was too much to take."

Carl sat in his chair and smiled, giggling. He knew Rossi was right. His lesson had come from simple hatred, to a need... and he was excited by it.

"Why do you make lampshades our of the skin," I asked, "Is it to... remind you of the people you've killed?"

"No. I'm in a room with beautiful, raw skin. Like anyone who's given a hide... I put it to good use." He laughed some more.

I nodded in response, then asked, "And the faces?"

"I wear them to hid my deformity."