Emile couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head. “We better hope they’re not crazy. If they’re crazy, then they’re going to start doing things randomly and we’ll be stuck behind the eight ball forever. If they’re sane, however, we can think like them. Assume their goals and get to the end of their line before they get there.” Profiling had been something he had been talented in when he first joined the FBI, and he had always thought it was the most beneficial way to stop a crime like this from escalating. Though, it did seem that it had already escalated.
Following towards where the body had been placed, the FBI agent allowed himself to start coming up with ideas. The biblical reference was interesting. Clearly the perpetrators wanted themselves to be thrust into the police’s spotlight. Either that, or the church’s spotlight. This was somewhat odd in the agent’s mind, so he needed to think of possibilities as to why that could be. Jealousy? Being an outcast? Hypocrisy? Or was it all just a play to try and get everyone looking somewhere else? The idea of things of this nature being related in some form to Satanists or Pagans or something of that ilk wasn’t particularly on his radar, seeming more like an easy target for someone to pin their crimes on. As he started paying more attention, he looked up from his feet and saw the body. The emotional reaction was involuntary and wildly unprofessional. Anyone could’ve seen the grief that played on his face and the word escaped his lips before he could catch it, no matter how desperate he was to catch it. “Sami…” The name thrust out into the air, his voice breaking under it for the first time in years possibly. His former partner’s name. His former lover’s name.
Agent Yeager swallowed hard and took a step back, closing his eyes and lowering himself into a crouch. They were gone. They were long gone. And this body on it’s knees in front of him had nothing to do with them. Well… except for the obvious thing. After a moment the Profiler opened his eyes and stood up to his full height again. His face had grown cold and detached again, back to where he needed to be for the work he needed to do. “So a prayer position. That’s a rather obvious sign. Either by someone who is involved within the church and is angered by it and it’s members hypocrisy or by some form of outcast of the church. Though judging by the letter we may be looking for a zealot whose belief has found a new and… disturbing outlet.”
Brooks inadvertently didn’t understand. So they were to expect someone, or someones as Tim pointed out, sane to do anything like this? There were logical, kind, completely normal ( Christian ) people and then there was this. This wasn’t something someone sane would do. This wasn’t what anybody from Wheeler would do. As much as she wanted to refer to this as an isolated incident, or what the carnival dragged in, the note begged to differ. Didn’t make her wipe the incredulous look off her face. He was right, but it didn’t mean he should be. Good thing she had half a mind to not argue.
In fact she offered an ounce of a smile, although it was intended for her boss and the confidence instilled in her when he made it known that he would be right there. It helped that she was bringing up the back. What didn’t help was the way the FBI agent had backed up and dipped to the ground. His face a painting of pain and nostalgia. How many times had he seen this before? This, still being masked by Tim, who she purposefully kept between her and whatever the lights had been situated on. In an act of gentility, she shifted towards Emile keeping the body from her line of sight all the while. The way she reached to only skin her fingers against the fabric of his suit, rather than bend down and yank him up or offer her hand, was an attempt to pull him from whatever nightmare he had sunk into. He exceeded her station by a billion to one, but everyone was human. Everyone had bad memories.
“Are you . .” she began, never finishing. Her voice had been quiet anyhow, and he had pulled himself to together without help from anyone else. His words cutting through her intentions of making sure he was well, and her cheek turned, the one with the scratch, finally laying eyes on it.
She had thought the mud idol was bad. Horrific. Hell, she had been leveled into tears when they found it. A body was supposed to be worse, and it was, but not how she thought. The air she’d immediately sucked in was audible, but there was no exhale heard. Would she faint? She could feel her body aching, but her neck specifically, and her thoughts swimming in and out of focus. Call it luck that she didn’t hear Yeager’s comment about the church; too busy reaching her hand up to feel her neck and the heat traveling down it. It did not take a scientist to realize that there was no blood, not on the floor or on his clothes. Whatever they’d done to him, they hadn’t done it here and they did something to make sure it was not on his clothing. His clothing that she recognized, the hat, the lack of shoes, the holes. South. He had been alive before; she had seen his vacant eyes and heard his voice. What if this was Faith, or Tim, or even Bill fucking Seward? Her mind was left to swirl, like what happened when she finger-painted as a kid, and she choked like a fish out of water with eyes widened in recognition that appeared more like fear. When she swallowed, she wasn’t if it was vomit or satan that she was forcing back down. Her hands moving to rake through the hair she’d twisted into a bun, elbows out upon interlacing her fingers behind her head. It was pure luck that she didn’t smack anybody in the face with them when she whipped around, back to the man that she would forget she’d ever seen before. // @timothylee
Tim watched the FBI agent closely as he studied the scene, raising his eyebrows curiously at the sadness that seemed to flit over his features. It was definitely something he took note of, but he had the empathy to not press it while they were right here right now. It didn't seem like the time or place for such a thing.
Instead he stood there and watched as he worked, taking in the scene, and the details -- maybe coming up with an idea on who could have done something like this. Meanwhile Tim stood back under the pretense of not getting in the way, and attempting to look anywhere but the decapitated body on the ground. It was impossible though, and his eyes darted towards it every now and then, before moving back to Yaeger, and then around to see if Penni was okay. She was still there, holding up, at the very least.
He turned back to the Agent when he started asserting who he believed could be behind the attacks, and slowly nodded his head.
"Well, the Church is a big part of the day to day life of most here in Wheeler, maybe there is some secret ... zealot within it. Sure." Tim grimaced. There was a reason he hadn't been to Church regularly since he'd gotten back from college. But ... even if they were kind of jerks, and kind of close minded, and ugh he could really get fed up with all the 'gods plan' crap -- did he think any of them could be capable of this? Didn't he have to? "Most of them are just nosy, and judgmental though. His parents went to Church regularly. Were they sitting in there with someone who could kidnap a little girl, and decapitate a man?
Tim took a breath, "so, what do you think these people wanted with Cassie Klein? She’s a child. Do you think...” he hesitated, because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer, but he had to. “Do you think they would keep her alive?"
