The List - Part 3
Title: The List
Rating: Mature (language/mild sexual content)
Pairing: CM: Gen - Casefic / QAF: Brian/Justin
Timeline: CM: Between 307 and 308 / QAF: Two years post-513
Parts: 3/14
Warnings: Minor character deaths (really minor)
Beta: roane, the wonderous and amazing. She’s never seen QAF, alas (working on it!), so the character sections there are only beta-ed for the writing. All errors are mine.
Summary:
Someone is mutilating and killing men in Pittsburgh’s gay village. When Pittsburgh’s finest can’t save Pittsburgh’s hottest, they call on the FBI for help. Can the BAU stop the Liberty Avenue Killer before the unsub strikes again?
Without Prejudice. The names of all characters contained here-in are the property of CowLips and The Mark Gordon Company. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.
3.
November 12th, 2007, 11:30 pm
The strobe lights should hurt my eyes, by all rights. They’re too bright, too fast, too sharp, like little blades of fire sparking in the brain.
The flashing and flickering of the lights, the lasers picked out by the artificial smoke, the refractions of fire off the glitter that falls in waves from traps in the ceiling - all of it has been carefully constructed to create a new world for us. The dance floor is space out of space, time out of time, the pulsing of the bass and the drums becoming the rhythm of bodies, of sweat, of sex and blood.
I move through the crowd like a shark, that scent thick in my nose, hot in my mouth. Wet bodies move aside for me without conscious awareness, reacting on base instinct. Hands reach for me, to draw me into the crush, and normally I would follow without a second thought. Lose myself and find myself a hundred times over in the heatslickyesnowmore of it all.
But tonight I have something else I need to do.
He eludes me, my lover, and the insistent pressure builds with the thump of the beat and the flashing of the lights, a burn and a hunger that demands attention. I’ll not have him tonight, no, but tomorrow - I can’t take the chance that he won’t be with me tomorrow.
I lost him before. I won’t let it happen again.
November 13th, 2007. 8:30 am:
The precinct was bustling, the uniforms and detectives gathering for the briefing. Morgan cut through the crowd, two take-away trays filled with paper cups in his hands. “Coffee, ladies-“ he handed one of the trays to JJ, keeping the other for himself.
“You’re my new favourite person,” JJ smiled her thanks, reaching for one of the cups and flipping the pop top back with a flourish. “We’re about ready to go here. Hotch and Rossi are in with Horvath.”
“I thought I was your favourite person?” Reid put on an offended look and managed to keep his face deadpan.
“Here we go-“ Prentiss nodded toward the door, and the men who were coming in. “We’re up.”
--
“We’re looking for a white male, somewhere between thirty and forty,” Hotch began from his position at the front of the room. He surveyed the faces in front of him with a critical eye. The rooms were slightly different every time, the racial, sex and age mix always a little varied, but the essentials were always the same. The sensation rested somewhere between familiar and déjà vu. “He’ll be gay or bisexual. He’s arrogant, a narcissist. He has a job that gives him a feeling of power - surgeon, CEO, politics. He craves control over other people.”
Rossi picked up where Hotch left off, at the team leader’s careful nod. “He’s frustrated - something has happened in his life recently that’s made him feel like he’s lost that control. He may have recently become impotent, been fired, or left by a partner. He feels the need to lash out and regain that feeling of power that he craves. He cares about his victims, even as he’s emasculating them. They appear to have had consensual sex with him prior to the murders, so they may know him, and he’s likely charismatic and attractive.”
Prentiss took the rest of it, moving forward to address the assembled officers. “He’s materially wealthy, and has access to isolated property where he can commit torture and murder without being overheard. The body dumps are obvious, so he feels untouchable. Something about him makes him feel like he’s immune from prosecution. All the victims had elevated blood alcohol levels on the nights they died, consistent with having a couple of drinks. He’s picking them up in social settings. Liberty Avenue appears to be his hunting ground.”
Hotch took his chance to scan the group again while Prentiss was speaking, and his eyes narrowed a little when the rested on Horvath. The detective was staring at Prentiss with a look of - was that recognition? His lips were pressed tightly together as though in dismay. Hotch frowned, then leaned in to murmur quietly to Rossi while Prentiss wrapped things up with the group. “Look at Horvath.”
“He knows something.”
“I’ll speak to him after this.”
The group dispersed, a handful of questions answered, and Hotch waited until the room had mostly cleared out before moving again. Horvath lingered in the doorway, as though wrestling with some internal demon, and he didn’t look at all relieved when Rossi beckoned him over.
Hotch remained standing, his arms folded. “When we gave the profile,” he opened, searching the older man’s face for an answer. “Something struck you. Do you know the unsub?”
“It’s probably nothing,” the detective hedged, not meeting Hotch’s eye. Hotch had the feeling that Horvath would be scuffing his toe in the dirt, if he were a kid; something was eating at him, and badly.
“Whatever it is, even small details can be helpful,” he encouraged.
Horvath sighed deeply, and gave Hotch a hangdog look. “I know someone who fits that profile. There’s just no way he did it. He’s a son of a bitch, but he’s no killer.”
The fact that he’d even brought it up, Rossi mused, meant that there was some room for doubt, even though Horvath was professing otherwise. “Give us what you’ve got. Let us be the judge of that.”
Horvath nodded, flipped over the file in his hands without really looking at it. “Brian Kinney,” he gave up the name. “Runs Kinnetik, one of the big ad agencies in town. He's everything you just described. Arrogant as hell. Loner type; has friends, but doesn't let 'em in much. He owns that club where the victims had memberships - Babylon; he bought it about three years ago.”
"Property?"
Horvath nodded, reluctantly. “He has a place out in West Virginia. Big house, stables, the whole bit."
Rossi gave him a quizzical look. "Why would an urban ad guy buy country property?"
"It was supposed to be a gift for his fiancé, an artist; name of Justin Taylor. But they called off the wedding. Taylor moved to New York to go paint, Kinney stayed here and kept the house."
“When was the breakup?” Rossi leaned forward, hot on the scent. It couldn’t possibly be this easy.
Horvath shook his head. “Two years ago, not long after he bought the place. I have no idea what happened; neither of them would talk about to anyone, only that ‘it was the right thing to do.’ Debbie was fit to be tied.”
“Debbie?”
“My girl,” Horvath clarified, looking even more uncomfortable than before, if that were even possible. “Debbie Novotny. Her son Michael is Kinney’s best friend. They grew up together - Brian practically lived at Deb’s place when the boys were teenagers.” He relaxed a little now that they were off the subject of Kinney’s possible involvement in a serial murder. “Deb’s got a heart bigger than her mouth which, if you know Deb, is saying something. She works down at the Liberty Diner, thinks she’s mom to all of the boys down there. She’s always taking in strays. Taylor lived with her for a while as well, about six years back, after his folks kicked him out,” he added as an addendum.
“Mrs. Novotny would know quite a bit about the community, maybe about our victims as well?” Hotch asked, an eyebrow raised. “Who their friends were, if they had a partner in common?”
“Sure,” Horvath waffled for a moment, then agreed. “After two years, I don’t know how much she’d remember, but it’s worth a shot.”
"Where would we find this Kinney guy?" Rossi interjected, taking notes while the information was all still fresh in his mind.
"I can take you to his office," Horvath suggested. “It’s not that far from here.”