[Criminal Minds] years before love

"We may be in big trouble." Hotch quickly checked the list of evidence, "Even if there is a post office record, the other party may use a fake address and a fake name. If you can't find out who he sent that thing to, there may be more of the deceased."

Officer White is also sweating. Although he has indeed cooperated with the BAU many times, he is lucky that he has only encountered a serial killer in the true sense so far in his police career.And that experience left him with lingering fears.

"AgentHotch, are you sure there's something wrong with that book?"

"Not [-]% sure." Hotch didn't stop, "but the temptation to get better is actually very attractive, and not everyone can be as comfortable with the status quo as Hunt is. Bassand does not look like he is suicidal, But there’s a fine line between being disappointed in yourself and losing faith in life, and I think it’s more likely that he didn’t think he was committing suicide at all.”

"Why?" White was taken aback, "But he clearly killed himself."

"With such a ritualized suicide, even if there is no last word, there are usually other protests against the source of stress." Hotch frowned. "I don't think he is ready to choose death."

White sighed, "I don't know if this will comfort his parents."

Then a new report was handed over to Hotch, with a clear fingerprint pattern after processing, "The laboratory re-studied the evidence, and the DNA will take a while, but the fingerprint in the upper left corner of the schedule does not belong to George, not his roommate - we had his fingerprints taken at the time. Already looking in the online system for possible matches, really hoping to find a suspect to close the case."

"I doubt it." Hotch reconfirmed that there were no envelopes or letters in the evidence. Although he guessed that the victim might have destroyed these things before his death, he was still a little helpless, "It is very likely that you matched with the last person Suicide."

"This—if the suspect is already dead, what else can we do?" Years of police career allowed White to quickly understand what he meant, hesitant, but still asking.

"He's not necessarily a suspect. And if it's what I think." Hotch paused, "We need to find out who Bassand sent that thing to, and warn him, and take action if necessary Break this chain. All told, we probably have less than 4 weeks."

"Whether it's what you think or not, I'll send someone to the post office for records immediately."

Hotch nodded. "We'll have to check his personal belongings, maybe we can find more connections."

White nodded, picked up the phone and explained, "Mr. Bassand is very busy, but his wife should be at home, but she still can't accept the fact that her son is dead, the mental state may not be very good, they may be strict, But really have high hopes for George."

"Understandable." Hotch said nothing.

Mrs. Bassand was indeed at home, haggard and sad.At this point, at least for his parents, it is never a pleasant thing to ask why he did these things.

She took Hotch upstairs and stood at the door of her son's room, refusing to open the door for a long time.After a long time, she forced a self-deprecating laugh, "I always hope that one day he can open the door and come out again, even if he has an argument with me."

"Go down and rest for a while." Hotch hesitated for a moment, put his hand on her shoulder, and said softly, "We're just watching."

Mrs. Bassand didn't move, "He, we haven't gone in to clean up after he left...I used to always criticize him for not packing up properly."

Hotch sighed and opened the door.

Typical young men's room, with clothes, textbooks, footballs, and magazines stuffed under the pillow in a mess.There were still boxes and a basket of things just brought back from school by the door.

On the table are photos with his parents and a medal that should have belonged to his father.

Hotch shook his head slightly, rummaging through various paper products.

"What are you looking for? Maybe I can help." Mrs. Bassand finally stepped into the room.

"Any letter or package." Hotch put the flipped book back in its place.

"He used to tuck those under the mattress." Mrs. Bassand pointed to the foot of the bed. "I've been pretending not to know his little secret.  …Is there something wrong with those letters?"

"No. We just need to confirm something." Hotch touched, and the bottom had obviously been tidied up, and he didn't seem to find anything, but he frowned, and lifted the mattress violently.

After careful inspection, Hotch finally found a used postage stamp between the bed boards.