Make It out Alive

"She was still all dressed up, what from?" Rossi asked, looking at the pictures of the teenage girl. She had five small puncture wounds in her neck, from which her blood had been drained. The blue dress was soaked in her blood, her flats removed and behind her head, her tights were stretched, but there was no sign of sexual abuse.

"Parents say she wore dresses all the time, said she was trying to be more feminine, she was a tom boy," JJ told him.

I went through the girl's life and felt sad. "Applied to five colleges, was accepted into every one. Was going to be a business major. Was in the marching band, orchestra, choir, and band. She was in a club for helping teenagers avoid bad choices, the gay-straight alliance, the debate team, three sport athlete, and a pretty prominent member in the community, spending time volunteering at the town library, and the rest home. She also had a job at a small music store in town. At the same time, working on a play at the local theater and getting straight As."

Derek flipped through the file. "Sounds like all around a good kid, what made someone do this?"

"I'd like to talk to her friends," I told the team. "Teenagers don't talk to their parents, they talk to their friends."

"I'd like to look around Anna's room," Spencer said.

Hotch nodded. "Rossi and I will talk to her teachers. JJ, once you get set up at the station, ask Garcia to find anyone in town with a violent past. This is a small town, everyone knows everyone."

The plane hit a few patches of turbulence on the way to a small town in West Virginia, making Rossi shift uneasily, but finally we landed. Hotch was talking to the sheriff, while the rest of us looked at the small town. There was a population of about a thousand, the largest gathering place other than someone's home was probably a fast food place.

"The entire town and most of the surrounding towns are at a memorial at the school. The parents said we can take a look at anything we need to," Hotch informed us.

"Could I join Reid looking at her room?" I asked. "I think I could get a pretty good backround for talking to her friends."

Hotch nodded. "We get started in the morning with everything. You two, back at the hotel when you're done."
Spence and I nodded. The sheriff took us to the home, and I choked up a bit. Around all the crime scene tape was flowers. I nudged Spencer and pointed. He just shook his head sadly.

The house was painted warmly, clearly inviting, smelling like woodsmoke and baked goods. Above the mantle hung a portrait of the family, on both sides of the picture, a deer head. The sheriff lead us to her bedroom, and I frowned. The rest of the house was lively, filled with warmth and painstakingly decorated. Anna's room was a complete contrast. Straight white walls, cream colored blinds, dark wood for the desk, nightstand, dresser and bookcase.

"Something is wrong," I said, as Spencer inspected the bookcase. "This isn't a normal teenagers room. There are no pictures of her friends, no posters of celebrities, there's hardly any personality."

The bed was made up with hospital corners, the sheets a pale blue with a pale yellow quilt. "This is too bland to be a teenagers room."

"Come here," Spencer suggested. "What's wrong with this bookcase for a teenage girl?"

I inspected it carefully, and just the first shelf made me bite my lip. "Textbooks, encyclopedias, a Bible, tons of nonfiction, and a battered copy of Catcher in the Rye. Is it just me or..."

"Is this the bookshelf of a psychopath?" Spencer supplied. I nodded, noting that all the books were arranged not only by subject, but by author, and publication date.

"Do you think-"

"She killed herself to cover up other murders?" Spencer finished.

I nodded, leaving the room to talk to the sheriff. He informed me that they had only lived in the house for about a year, and no one knew where they came from. I nodded, frowning. I went back inside to find Spencer looking in her closet. "They're not local."

"These clothes? They're a very exclusive brand only available in Vegas. The cases for her instruments also say "Return to 9479 Rasclin Road. Which is a high-end neighborhood in Vegas."

I rubbed my eyes. "I'm going to come back tomorrow before talking to her friends in the morning. I need a fresh eye," I informed him. "This is just too weird."