Chapter 433: The Boston Reaper

"It's really unfulfilling to work on cases with your BAU team," Angela said as Maggie Lowe was being taken away.

Jack could only shrug at that. It didn't matter who took the lead, whether it was the LAPD, the FBI, John and his team, or the BAU unit. As long as the case got solved, that was all that mattered. This world had merged with so many TV dramas; if everyone tried to be the main character, things would get chaotic.

"I really wish that when we got to know each other, it could have been under more normal circumstances," Layla said helplessly, spreading her hands at Reid.

"Believe me, Layla, ever since I met a certain someone, there hasn't been a single normal day," Reid joked with a smile.

"Is this how you pick up girls, Reid? Badmouthing your savior behind her back?" Jack, wearing sunglasses, walked up to the two.

"Thank you, Jack," Layla said as she opened her arms and gave him a hug.

"It's time to go. If we stay any longer, the reporters will be all over this place." Jack pulled out a pair of sunglasses and handed them to Reid, gesturing for him to put them on. Then, turning to Layla, he added, "Rossi contacted your godmother, Mrs. Lawton. She's on her way to pick you up. Since your agent is still in the hospital, you can take this opportunity to rest for a while."

Layla nodded, glancing back at the mess the living room had become from the earlier fight. "After all this, I might have to find a new place to live."

"Can I call you later, Spencer? Maybe after everything has calmed down, we can get to know each other in a different way—like actually talking in person?"

Reid eagerly nodded. "Of course! I'd be happy to. In fact, I'd love to hear about your past, not just through... um, records."

"When all this is over, I'll call you." He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and she tilted her head, resting her cheek against his hand.

"Did I just miss an important moment?" Emily asked, her eyes wide as she hurried over, astonished by the intimate scene between the two.

"Join me for lunch this weekend, and I'll show you some interesting pictures," Jack said, casually wrapping an arm around JJ's shoulder and hooking the other around Emily as the three walked off, whispering and laughing.

"Oh, come on, Jack! I was wrong! Please, give me that memory card!" Reid hurried after them, pleading.

---

Tyler, who had been holed up in Hannah's house for nearly two days, finally got her exclusive scoop.

When Layla's agent, Mike, was shot, Jack immediately contacted Hannah privately, instructing her to protect Tyler.

Since the agent had been targeted for taking Layla to the police station, Jack feared that Tyler, who had also been involved in the case, might become the next victim of the same lunatic. So, Hannah decided to bring Tyler back to her house, taking her to the TV station for work during the day and bringing her home after work.

Having already been buried alive once, Tyler had become more compliant. She cooperated for two days, until Hannah received Jack's call telling her the danger was over.

As soon as Tyler regained her freedom, she sought out Layla and convinced her to agree to an exclusive interview.

Celebrity and even ordinary people stalking and harassment had become a major social issue in the country, and in some ways, this interview was a win-win situation.

Layla had been a relatively unknown TV actress, having played minor roles in a few failed movies. But this time, things worked in her favor. Her still-hospitalized agent, Mike, was receiving numerous offers, nearly splitting his stitches from laughing so hard.

After that, Jack remained busy for about a month, primarily learning disguise techniques from old Joe Mason.

As an ex-CIA veteran, the old man had a few tricks up his sleeve. He could change his appearance in minutes, blending into the crowd and disappearing without a trace.

Jack figured it was wise to be prepared. If the need ever arose, he could turn into a bystander, avoiding unnecessary attention.

But this skill wasn't easy to master. Modern technology had advanced to the point where facial recognition could be done with just part of a face, and there were even rumors of gait recognition. Avoiding the growing number of surveillance cameras would require much more practice.

---

During this time, Hotchner had been a bit distracted. After taking an unexpected two-day leave, he returned to the office and immediately asked JJ and Garcia to keep a close eye on any unusual murders in Massachusetts.

According to the information Garcia provided, it seemed like he was investigating a serial killer known as the "Boston Reaper."

However, FBI records showed that although the killer had never been caught, they hadn't committed a murder in ten years.

That morning, after JJ brought a case file to Hotchner's office, he abruptly started packing his things.

"Pack up. We're going to Boston."

"But we haven't been invited by the local police," JJ said, following him out of the office, confused.

"They will invite us. Gather everyone at the airport. I'm heading home to grab some documents first," Hotchner replied without breaking his stride.

"So, we're going to Boston?" Emily asked curiously as she saw JJ pause in the main office.

JJ shrugged. "Looks like it."

Hotchner's unusual behavior had everyone surprised. Though he was always serious and reserved, today's urgency was new to them.

"It looks like we'll need to bring more firepower and ammo this time," Jack said with a shrug as he watched Hotchner walk away.

An hour and a half later, their Gulfstream jet took off, but unlike usual, no one was in the mood for a game of mahjong. They all sat upright in their seats, eyes focused on Hotchner.

Once the plane leveled off, and the seatbelt sign was turned off, Hotchner couldn't wait to stand up, handing out files to everyone.

"Okay, I know you all have a lot of questions, but before that, listen to this."

The file Hotchner held was thick, containing information on 21 victims. With the new file JJ had just received, that brought the total to 23.

"Not long ago, I privately went to South Boston to visit an old acquaintance. His name is Tom Shaughnessy, a senior detective with the Boston PD.

"Ten years ago, I briefly worked with him on the 'Boston Reaper' case."

"Wait a minute," Rossi interrupted, raising his hand in confusion. "Why don't I know about the FBI being involved in this case? I don't recall there being a profile for this serial killer in our system."

Hotchner's voice grew somber. "That's because we never completed a profile. The 'Reaper' stopped killing before we could. The official investigation was halted soon after."

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