The woman wouldn't wake up. The girl had tried everything. She sang some songs, sat patiently until she was hungry again, then tried shaking her. By the time the girl got hungry again, she left the bathroom to try and find something to eat. The only thing that was in the refrigerator was old moldy cheese. The last time the girl had eaten that, it had made her sick. She closed the door and went back upstairs. The woman still hadn't moved. It was dark, and the girl was scared, she began to cry.
The girl went back downstairs and outside. Sometimes when she got too hungry, the old lady next door would feed her. She knocked softly on the front door and waited patiently, hugging her teddy bear.
"Come on in." The old lady said, recognizing the girl.
"Mommy won't get up." She whispered.
"Kid, that's nothing new."
"She's all red in the bathroom."
The old lady paused in the doorframe. "Red how?"
"Her arms. It's sticky and it smells bad."
The old lady finally noticed the blood all over the side of the girl's pants. "Shit." She whispered. "Go into the living room, take those pants off and sit on my couch. Stay here." The girl did as the old lady said. She stayed still long after the old lady came back into her house looking horrified. She stayed still when the police came and talked in whispers, glancing over at her every few minutes. She stayed still as the old lady gave her a new pair of pants to put on, after she gave her food, and while the police talked to her. The police just watched. It was unnatural how still the little girl remained.
Emily woke up with a pounding in her head that didn't go away after her forth cup of coffee. There had been no new leads all morning. The team had been scoping through file after file on performers, club workers and regulars at the club. By the afternoon, they had interviewed at least one family member or friend of all six murdered women and had contacted the families from the previous six to find any connection.
"They're all women in their early to mid twenties, all brunettes, and all performers in some way or another. Or at least involved behind the scenes in some way." JJ said. "He's got to be involved in some way as well, a fan wouldn't have the access to all of them, most of them weren't even that big."
Hotch nodded, agreeing with her and told Garcia to focus on men involved in show business surrounding the women. Everyone was spent and frustrated, with twelve murders there should be more evidence, but it seemed like he only got better and better with each kill. "I hate to say it but..." Morgan trailed off.
"We kind of need something new to go on." Rossi finished for him solemnly. Emily watched JJ look down at her hands, needing someone else to die, to save them was a catch-22 that pissed her off and Emily could tell. She was determined to find something now.
"We need to talk to other performers. See if they noticed anything." She stated.
"We already did." Morgan said.
"Only a few, it can't hurt to try more."
Hotch nodded. "JJ, you and Emily head out, Reid and Morgan, take the rest, Rossi, you and I will keep going over victimology." Everyone nodded and stood up to take on their tasks. "Meet back her by nightfall if you don't get anything sooner."
JJ leaned her head against the window and remained silent the first ten minutes of the car ride. "Jen?" Emily prodded.
JJ rolled her head over. "Hum?" She murmured.
"What're you thinking?" Emily asked softly.
"That this case sucks."
Emily chuckled softly. "All of them kinda do, but I agree, this one has a bit more suck to it." Emily smiled as JJ laughed at Emily's wording. She took pleasure in being able to cheer her wife up through these cases, even if sometimes only momentarily. "We'll figure it out. We always do eventually."
"Yeah, but how many more women have to die before we do?"
Emily sighed and turned her gaze back to the road. She didn't have an answer to that question and JJ knew it. "Let's just get as much out of these people as we can." She said, trying to remain optimistic.
"Kay." JJ whispered as Emily pulled the car to a stop. "Can I have a kiss first?" JJ asked with a small smirk. Emily grinned and happily leaned over. "Thank you." JJ smiled.
"Anytime, JJ, anytime." The two women climbed out of the SUV and shared a look. "You ready?" Emily asked. JJ nodded and the profilers walked up to their first address. It was going to be a long day.
The old lady pinned the note to the girl's jacket. "He's your father. The note says so. He'll take care of you." She straightened the girl's jacket, and flattened down her frizzy curls the best she could, then sighed. "I'm sorry about your mom kid, its a tough break. I hope you have a good life." The girl watched as the woman rang the doorbell, then walked down the steps and back into the cab. She gave a light wave as the yellow car pulled away. The girl frowned. A man opened the door and stared at her. She looked back down at her shoes.
"He's probably got a job that gives him easy access to performers." Reid said to Morgan as they stopped to grab some lunch before interviewing more people. It had been a long morning and they were both starving. "Maybe a stage manager?"
"Could be, they oversee a lot and have access to lots of different records, but we would see a name that showed up. None of the people seem to have any one person in common, not like were looking for." Morgan responded, digging into his sandwich.
Both men were silent for a few moments, eating and thinking about all of the information they had so far. "What about a performer?"
"We thought of that but none of the names..."
"A stage name! He could be changing it."
"Why would he do that? Half of this industry relies on the name, you need to make people remember you, if he kept changing his name, that would never happen."
"But what if he wants to remain anonymous? He could be talented enough to get him through the doors, maybe he doesn't need to rely on a name. He wouldn't care so much about being recognized."
"Reid, these guys almost always want recognition." Morgan reminded the scrawny profiler.
"He has it, the symbol is unique to him, he's talented, he wants to remain anonymous enough to slip in make his kill and then leave."
Morgan shoved the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. "Its an idea." He agreed. "Let's go finish these interviews then bounce it off Hotch." Reid nodded and stood up to throw his food away, then the two men climbed back into their SUV and got back to work.
The man made her practice everyday. No matter if she was hungry, tired, or in pain. She had to keep going, she had to be perfect. She never smiled unless they were preforming. He had made sure she remembered to smile onstage. By the time she had been living with him for almost six months, she had his favorite routine down perfectly. That only gave him the incentive to push her harder. They would dance on the street, people gave them money and all gushed over the adorable curly-haired little girl. She heard people say she was 'the next Shirley Temple'. The girl didn't know who that was, but the people smiled as they said it, so it made her feel good. The girl liked preforming but she hated practicing. The man yelled the steps at her. He came over to her and jerked her body around until it was in the right position and if she got a step wrong he grew very angry. If he got mad enough, he would hit her. Sometimes it was just a slap, which always hurt, but she preferred that to the other things.
When she got to go on her first big stage and dance with him, all the grown ups stood up and clapped for her. She smiled even though the man hadn't told her too.
When they were done with a performance, the man would make her go back to whatever hotel they were staying at. He would stay out late and come home angry. The girl knew what blood was now, and she smelled it on him when he came back sometimes. It made her nauseous, and it made her think of the woman. The girl didn't like thinking of the woman, it made her sad.
"Are we dancing tonight?" She asked the man. Ever since her sixth birthday he let her do some of her own tap routines. She loved dancing by herself. Sometimes, nice women would come up and hug her and tell her she was adorable. One time, she followed one home and asked if she could live with her. When the man found them, he got madder than the girl had ever seen him. Instead of slapping her, he punched her and she fell down crying. The woman yelled and told him she would call the police. The girl hoped she would, but he stopped her.
"And what was his name?" JJ asked the man across from her. He was their last interview for the day and she couldn't wait to get back to their hotel room and take a hot shower.
"Frankie I think. Real weirdo, fantastic tapper. I mean he could make it big, dunno why he never seemed to care though. His kid was awesome."
"Sorry, his kid?" Emily asked.
The scruffy man on the couch picked at a hole in his jeans and nodded. "Little girl, cute kid, real weird too though. She never talked. Might'a been mute or something." He shrugged. "She never looked anybody in the eye either, just followed him around like a sad little puppy. She could fucking dance though! Oh shit, sorry, freaking dance." He said. JJ nodded him off and shared a look with Emily.
"What was her name?" Emily asked.
"Hum...dunno, everybody just called her the kid. I never really heard him talk to her. Like I said, weirdos."
"How old was she would you say?" JJ asked.
"Little, tiny kid, maybe like five or six? Look I really didn't pay much attention to her, I was focused on my music and chicks. Not ones under four feet."
JJ grimaced and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can you describe them with as much detail as you can remember? Its important. Hair color, complexion, etc."
"Uh, sure, brown hair, both of 'em, curly. Kid had sorta short hair, like 'round her shoulders. Pale, the kid had lots of freckles, blue eyes I think for them both. They looked a lot alike. He was a skinny guy, but you could tell he was fit ya know, guy could take a punch. The kid was tiny. They preform all over, I've seen 'em more than once, but they change up their stage names. Dunno why, stupid ass thing to do, but I know the guys real name is Frankie."
"Do you know his last name?" Emily asked. The boy shook his head. "Nah, its irish or something I think though."
"Any of his stage names, or the places you've seen them preform?" JJ asked.
"Yeah sure."
Leaving the man's apartment, Emily and JJ both let out a collective sigh of relief. The man fit the description they were going for, admittedly, it wasn't much, but right now, it was something. They drove back to the station quickly to relay what they found with the team.
"Hey." Reid greeted them as they arrived. "I've been thinking, it might be a performer, he could be changing up his stage name to blend in."
JJ and Emily shared a look. "What is it?" Hotch asked. "You don't agree?"
"No..." Emily said, sitting down next to Reid. "We might have your guy." JJ and Emily explained what they had learned – and already told Garcia – for the next few minutes. "It might be a long shot, but its definitely worth looking into at this point." Emily finished.
"We already called Garcia and gave her everything to look for, she said she'd get back to us if she found anything." JJ said.
"Okay, good work. Let's get some sleep and start fresh in the morning." Hotch told the team. All exaughisted, they happily complied.
The man was worried. Everything the girl did made him angry. He had come back to the hotel two nights ago covered in blood and yelling. When she tried to pretend to be asleep, he picked her up out of the bed and threw her into the tub. Turning the water on scalding hot, he held her in it while she cried.
"It's burning me!" She whimpered.
"Then you should behave!" He screamed at her. "You made this happen! You should have left that woman alone!"
"She said I was pretty. She was just being nice to me. Why can't I talk to people?"
"Because I said so." He shoved her hard and stomped out of the bathroom. The girl didn't dare get up in case he was going to come back. After half an hour, the water finally cooled down to a comfortable, normal warm bath. The girl slowly climbed out, whimpering at the movement and peaked into the bedroom. The man was asleep. The girl went back to the tub and drained it. She gently pealed off her clothes and held back her cries at her burned skin. Turning the water to cold, she climbed back into the tub, crying silently.