Rossi pondered for a long time before clapping his hands. "Maybe the killer made advances toward the victims, and when they rejected him, he treated their bodies this way."
Jack raised an eyebrow, finding Rossi's theory far-fetched. "Out of the four victims, only one was confirmed to be gay. There's no indication that the others had anything unusual about their sexual orientation, and…"
He glanced at the body on the floor. "As far as I know, even in same-sex relationships, people have different preferences when it comes to appearance and body type."
"Maybe the rejection excited the killer even more?" Rossi shrugged, though it was clear he wasn't entirely convinced by his own theory.
Jack shuddered at the thought, his vivid imagination running wild with absurd scenarios, and he was quickly overwhelmed by thoughts of internet memes like "Show me!" and "No, stop!"
Thankfully, Garcia's call rescued him from his spiraling thoughts. "The medical examiner's report is out. None of the previous victims showed signs of sexual assault, aside from, uh, losing a certain organ."
"Thanks, dear," Jack sighed in relief. At least this wasn't some perverted serial killer.
"Any updates on the victims' movements?" Jack asked.
"We've found one so far. Sean Taylor used his credit card at a gym near the convention center. I've sent you the address. Also, while we haven't recovered their phones, I've pulled their phone records and didn't find any suspicious numbers," Garcia informed him.
With that, Jack and Rossi headed back to the police station.
Rossi, having already reached his workout limit for the day, opted to let Jack take a new partner to check out the gym.
When they arrived back at the station, they bumped into Hotch as he was escorting a middle-aged woman out the door. Rossi quickly greeted him.
"Any progress?" Rossi asked.
"Joe Krause had recently lost his job, and he and his wife were facing a financial crisis," Hotch replied.
Before he could say more, Emily and Reid walked out of the meeting room.
"Funny timing. We just discovered that Sean Taylor lost his vacation home to foreclosure, and another victim had signed divorce papers the day before coming to L.A.," Emily said.
"So, the common thread between the victims is significant financial loss or economic hardship? Maybe the killer faced similar struggles," Jack speculated, rubbing his chin.
"That sounds more plausible than the sexual orientation theory," Reid added.
"But how is the killer finding this information so quickly? Is he involved in a service industry?" Hotch questioned.
The killer was likely a local, familiar with the area. The crime scene evidence suggested he was a man, as there had been only one set of footprints at the last site, despite the victim weighing around 240 pounds.
He was able to quickly gain the victims' trust before striking, which indicated strong social skills. Yet, at the same time, he managed to blend in and remain unnoticed.
As the team sorted through the clues, they found themselves stumped. Instead of narrowing down the suspect pool, the potential leads only seemed to create more questions.
Finally, Hotch glanced at the time. "It's late. Let's get some rest and meet back at the station in the morning. We'll need more information, and both the medical examiner and the forensic team will need time to process everything."
One perk of working locally was the ability to go home at night. As Jack got up, he said, "JJ and I will stop by the gym on the way back."
Gyms, like banks, were one of the most heavily surveilled places in the country, and Jack and JJ had little trouble getting the security footage. Sometimes, the FBI badge worked wonders, far better than any local police credentials.
It seemed that almost every American had learned to demand a search warrant from local cops, but when the FBI came knocking, cooperation was rarely an issue.
"It looks like this guy was venting some serious frustration," Jack remarked as he cycled through the footage of Sean Taylor moving from one machine to another.
In the video, Sean appeared to be punishing himself, setting the treadmill at a speed he couldn't keep up with and using weights far heavier than he could manage.
"It's like he's engaging in some kind of self-punishment. Losing the vacation home doesn't seem like the whole story. He looks more bitter and angry at the world," JJ observed.
Noticing her growing interest in profiling, Jack asked casually, "When are you going to officially ask Rossi and Hotch to train you as a profiler?"
Technically speaking, only Rossi, Hotch, Reid, and Emily were fully qualified profilers in the team. Jack was close but wouldn't have his master's degree until the end of next year. JJ, on the other hand, was still primarily a liaison.
JJ blushed slightly but shot Jack a playful glare. "I'm considering taking additional courses. Reid offered to introduce me to his mentor, Professor Jason Gideon—you know, the guy who co-founded the BAU with Rossi."
Jack chuckled, amused by her sheepishness. "Looks like Hotch will need to hire a new liaison soon," he said as he gallantly opened the car door for her.
The two returned to the city and enjoyed dinner at a cozy Spanish restaurant.
Jack, having recently mastered Italian cuisine, had now turned his attention to Spanish food. While there were similarities between the two, each had its own distinct flavors, much like the relationship between Huaiyang cuisine and Shandong cuisine in China.
However, the one dish that Jack found particularly odd was churros—fried dough sticks coated in sugar and served with hot chocolate for dipping. It was a little too much for his taste.
Tapas, on the other hand, intrigued him. As he sampled the small, toothpick-skewered snacks, Jack began scheming ways to adapt the concept with his own spin, perhaps using the Chinese dish Bobo Chicken as inspiration.
After a satisfying meal and some time together at JJ's cozy apartment, JJ pulled out a check and handed it to Jack, much to his surprise.
"I'm free!" Jack exclaimed dramatically.
JJ burst into laughter, collapsing into his arms. It took her a while to regain her composure.
"This is $10,000. I know you spent $100,000 on that plan in New York. Consider this my contribution—I really loved how the story ended."
Jack looked conflicted. "What if I told you I didn't actually spend any money?"
He began counting on his fingers. "Between the Hunter couple, the two fancy lawyers, bald-headed Frank, Wesley, and Hannah, I collected $60,000 from the 'bet.'"
Jack had anonymously placed a wager at a betting company, gambling that Charlie and Yvonne wouldn't break up. After taxes, he made over $100,000, returned everyone's money, and sent the leftover tip directly to "Yvonne's Café."
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