Mr. Siren [Comprehensive British and American]

"Emma Baker and Beck Martin have been a couple since their college days. Cheerleaders and basketball stars, aha, a match made in heaven. There are a lot of photos with each other on their social accounts. They travel together and watch movies together. According to Beck Martin's last tweet, he has successfully proposed." Garcia said, "They are ready to get married."

Emily asked: "What about their usual preferences? Does it have anything to do with the Renaissance?"

"Emma Baker likes bags, likes shoes, and those things that women like, and Beck Martin is a sports enthusiast. Obviously, the two of them have no interest in the Renaissance." Garcia replied.

"They disappeared together when they were going out to watch a movie. Maybe the murderer hunted loving couples to make up for their broken love?" Morgan speculated.

"The scars are concentrated on Emma Baker, and the process of losing blood until she dies is very painful. Relatively speaking, Beck Martin is much more merciful." JJ flipped through the information, "Shot to the head to kill, basically You won't feel any pain."

"It shows that the killer is projecting his own hurt onto the female victim, perhaps his wife or girlfriend has abandoned him," Reid said. will be gentler."

"Kill yourself." Rossi raised his eyebrows. "His sense of inferiority must be very strong. This is likely to be a relationship with a very large gap."

"The imbalance caused by the gap will cause a huge psychological gap, and it is easy to intensify conflicts and make people's psychology go to extremes." Reid nodded, carefully checking the photos of the clothes, "These clothes fit their bodies perfectly, and they There is almost no discrepancy in the details and historical records, including these decorations." He pointed to the pearl hairnet on the photo, "The imitation is very perfect, the murderer must be very familiar with the history of the Renaissance era."

"And the hands are very dexterous." Garcia added, "I searched the Internet, and selling similar clothes and hair accessories will definitely not be able to achieve this level. Have you seen the hemming of that dress, even if it is a private tailor? I don’t even use such a cumbersome method, it takes too much effort.”

"Are we looking for a tailor?" Morgan shook the photo in his hand, "Or a jeweler?"

"An artist." Hotch said lightly, "What he is expressing through the victim, but we still don't know the content."

In the photo, the girl's long black hair is tied in a pearl hairnet, her complexion is pale due to excessive blood loss, the makeup on her face is classic and solemn, and the red on her lips is delicate and dripping, which is more like wearing lipstick than lipstick. Whose blood fell on it.

Her hands were folded on her chest and abdomen, the scars on her body were covered by heavy clothes, and she made a peaceful and peaceful posture.

Beside her is Beck·Martin, who is wearing tights with incision decoration popular among men in the Renaissance period and a deep red velvet belted loose top. A decorative saber is hung on his waist, and the hilt is carved with exquisite patterns.

Similarly, this poor boy was dressed up beautifully, with short reddish-brown hair combed docilely behind his head, leaving a few strands of slightly curly hair on his cheeks, and his hands on his chest and abdomen, looking like he was sleeping. It's normal.

In fact, he did fall asleep. The drug test transmitted just now showed that he was injected with a large amount of sedatives before he died, which was enough to make him drowsy for ten days before he could react to what happened before he was thrown away. life.

One was tortured and bled to death, the other fell into a permanent sleep in ignorance, two completely different ways of killing showed two completely different emotions——

Anger and pity.

"Maybe two people?" JJ said, "One full of resentment, torturing women, and one full of compassion, killing men?"

"The angry people dominate and the pity people follow blindly, so whose idea would this be?" Rossi shakes the photo, "The Renaissance is not what the public likes, this period must mean something to them."

"Then when you arrive, JJ, Emily, you go talk to the victim's family and see if there are any clues, Reid goes to the forensic doctor to check the evidence and the body, Morgan and Rossi go to Forest Park to investigate the scene," Hotch arranged The task, "The Portland Police Department will cooperate with us as much as possible, but..."

"They don't really want us to intervene." Emily shrugged, "I already guessed it."

Under normal circumstances, few police officers are willing to have FBI agents reach out to their own jurisdiction, even if they ask for help on their own initiative.

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The brilliance of the morning sun slowly shines, and the darkness fades away, revealing the bluestone floor tiles, and the moss winding around the corners, blurring a large area of ​​moldy green.

Its daybreak.

The woman lying on the ground all night woke up moaning in a daze. Her body ached badly. She was tired and hungry. She had been locked up in this terribly big house for several days. Can't find a way out.

There was no one else but her, the gates were locked, and windows with welded iron bars blocked all her way out.She didn't see her kidnapper, nor her boyfriend who was taken away with her, only the ubiquitous surveillance cameras in the hallway and the house reminded her of the tragic situation she was in.

"Help me... someone help me..." She lay on the ground sobbing and weeping, hitting the ground weakly.

But no one came to rescue her, and it took her a long time to barely stand up, leaning on the wall staggeringly to walk through the corridor-there were several rooms in this corridor, with some food and water in them, which made her uncomfortable. As for starving to death here, maybe the prisoner wanted to torture her, but she had to eat because she didn't want to die yet.

There are comfortable beds and pillows in the room, but she would rather sleep on the floor in the corridor, which makes her feel more secure.

Now she has some bread and water on hand, some candles and a box of matches, and there are three matches left in the matchbox-it used to be ten, but she uses matches to light a candle every night, so she was kidnapped It has been seven days.

It's day eight.

Come on, don't give up.She cheered herself up silently, dried her tears and continued to search for possible escape clues in the house with her bare feet.

The red light monitored on the wall flickered, recording her every move.

"How calm..." Someone sighed, "Women are really cruel creatures, aren't they?"

The monitoring room with dozens of screens is decorated comfortably and luxuriously, with bright lights, soft carpets on the floor, a few cabinets in the corners, full of books and medicines, etc., and a single sheet facing the monitoring room. The human bed was probably obtained from some hospital. Half of the bed was shaken and a man fell on the bed, talking vaguely.

"I know...I know..." The person sitting next to him gently touched his cheek and wiped the sweat off his forehead, "It won't be very painful, don't worry."

The man shook his head in pain, mumbled a few phlegm sounds in his throat, and tears flowed from his eyes.

"Shh - don't cry." The man wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, "The dress is ready, you will be together forever."

"It's the seventh day, and the princess is going home."

The man smiled slightly, lowered his head and kissed the man's forehead, "You will wait for her, right?"

The man didn't answer, he was exhausted, his body was limp and out of breath, and he fell on the bed, staring at the exquisitely carved ceiling with dazed and hopeless eyes.

Can't escape... He let out a helpless low cry and closed his eyes numbly.

None of them can escape...

"boom--!!"

Blood splattered on the soft silk pillow, spreading dark red dots.

The stumbling woman paused suddenly, turned her head and looked around, she saw nothing, but suddenly shed tears.

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"Pogue Hansen, welcome to Portland." A police detective in his 30s greeted BAU with a beard and a sad face, "This case is really weird, and it's the first time I've been working on a case for so many years. See this."

While talking, he pushed open the door of the meeting room, "Is it okay to work here? We are a little nervous recently, I'm really sorry."

Hotch looked around, the meeting room was cleaned up, a round table and a few stools were left, and there were photos of the crime scene and simple documents on the whiteboard, "It's already good, are all the documents here?"

"Basically they are all there, but there are still a few forensic medical certificates waiting, which will arrive in the afternoon." Sighed, "I just hope there won't be more corpses."

"I hope so too." Hotch nodded and flipped through the files, "Then let's get started."

When they checked the data and marked the map, Reid was studying the clothes and headgear that had been taken off the corpse at the forensic doctor. The soft clothes were hung on the hangers.

——The headdress is made of round pearls, and the thin chains are strung with pearls to make the shape of a hairnet, and there are many fine gemstones mixed in. Women in France and Germany from the end of the fifteenth century to the sixteenth century were fashionable to use hair of various colors. The net, and the gorgeousness of the net also reflects the status of a woman.

"These gems..." He carefully lifted up the decorative gems hanging at the end of the hairnet, they were very beautiful, but... he frowned and observed carefully with a magnifying glass.

"It's a fake." The forensic officer standing next to him said, "This is a man-made fake. You can buy hundreds of them online for not much money."

"Indeed... this gemstone has curved swirls on the surface and inside, as well as round or oval bubbles. The bubbles in real gemstones are irregular, and it has no dichroism, no matter where you look It's the same color." Reid put the hairnet away and began to look at the clothes on the hanger again, the soft velvet was embroidered, much more delicate than the fake gemstone hairnet.

"These garments have been made for some time," Reid muttered to himself. "The overlocks and stitching are fine and delicate, but the edges have started to yellow and fray. They should have been resized recently." He pulled the sleeves and waist Check carefully, "The stitching is not very good, and it is not the same person who made this garment."

It seems that part of the profile made when I came here needs to be revised.