"Very strange," Rossi remarked as he looked around the interior of the house.
"This place feels quite cozy," Reid said, voicing everyone's thoughts.
Like the tool shed, everything here was in its place, from the entrance to the living room.
Shoes were neatly arranged in the shoe cabinet, hats hung orderly on the coat rack, books on the shelves were well-organized, and even the magazines on the table were stacked by category for easy access.
"Not OCD, nor a clean freak," Jack said, running his gloved finger along the bookshelf and wiping the minimal dust.
"The books are orderly but not categorized or systematically arranged, so it's not OCD."
"It looks like it's regularly cleaned, not too dusty, but it doesn't reach the level of a clean freak."
Reid snapped his fingers, realizing, "This is like Jack's home."
The others turned to Jack, who looked annoyed. "My place isn't this tidy. I'm just a disciplined bachelor, not to this extent."
At least his couch cushions were never in order because Hannah would mess them up, often ending up in the bedroom or other odd places.
Hotchner's words solved everyone's confusion. "It's like there's a diligent housewife. Before my son was born, Haley used to keep our home this neat."
"Could Francis have really treated the abducted women as slaves? But why kill them then?" Emily was still puzzled.
"Hotch." Rossi, who was opening the desk drawers, suddenly spoke up.
Hotchner, browsing the bookshelf, looked over. "What's up?"
"There are more videotapes here, with the names of the missing women written on them." Rossi pulled out the drawer entirely. The tapes were all destroyed, with the magnetic tape pulled out and tangled.
"These need immediate repair, and Garcia should sort them out quickly," Hotchner said, taking the drawer outside to find the sheriff.
Emily and Reid walked into the kitchen and saw a large cardboard sign titled "Rules" pinned to the wall, with numbers 1 to 4 written in marker.
"One, all actions must please the master."
"Two, any resistance will be punished."
"Is this the law of his kingdom?" Emily said, taking the sign down, considering it evidence.
"Notice the word 'master' is singular and capitalized, emphasizing there is only one master."
Reid explained while taking the only photo off the refrigerator. It showed Francis holding a shotgun, standing under a massive rock, taken from a low angle.
"So you think his accomplices were more like his servants or slaves? What about the abducted women?" Emily examined the photo.
"They were his outlets." Jack, standing at the kitchen door, gestured for them to follow.
Curious, they followed him into a room that looked like a bedroom, with a bed and wardrobe, but at the other end was a blood-stained wooden torture chair with iron chains and leather straps.
"He slowly tortured the women here, which explains why it took so long for each victim to appear," Reid said, understanding.
"There's fresh blood here." Hotchner, checking the wardrobe, lifted the bottom panel, revealing a hidden compartment.
"The victims were hidden here."
Emily picked up a brass instrument from the dresser, similar to an egg beater, and twisted it in her hand. The pear-shaped head split into three parts, slowly opening like petals.
"A pear of anguish, a medieval torture device," Reid immediately identified it.
Seeing Emily's confusion, Jack explained further. "Think of it as a torturous version of a medical examination tool."
Emily shuddered, quickly putting it back.
"Give me a hand," Rossi called Jack over.
Together, they lifted the seemingly ordinary wire bed against the wall, revealing an array of homemade torture devices on its back.
Everyone was speechless. These were not recreational BDSM toys but actual torture instruments, each stained with blood.
Even Jack, well-versed in such matters, could only recognize a few items. There was a whip made of fine wire, which would produce a slicing sound when swung. An iron hood with sharp teeth inside would cause immense pain when the wearer tried to open their mouth. Another device was a collar with a fork forcing the wearer's head up, or else the sharp prongs would stab their chin.
Feeling an eerie chill, everyone instinctively hugged their arms, as if the temperature had dropped, and an intangible wailing echoed in the grim room.
"They covered the floor with plastic sheets, torturing and killing the poor women, then wrapping the bodies."
"Each woman endured months of brutal torture, and the bodies were severely mutilated."
Despite witnessing countless bloody, violent serial murders, Rossi still felt angry at this inhumane behavior.
"We must do our utmost to help the victims' families and properly lay these souls to rest."
Jack stepped out of the wooden house, back into the sunlight, rubbing his arms to shake off the lingering creepy feeling.
"JJ has finished her check-up and is on her way back. We have a description of Francis' accomplice." Hotchner showed the sheriff and his deputies the sketch on his phone.
"A man in his twenties, 5 feet 8 inches (173 cm) tall, slim build, but be aware he is armed and dangerous."
The sheriff assigned tasks to his deputies and was about to leave when Jack stopped him.
"Sheriff, someone around here must know who Francis' accomplice is. Any tips on who we should talk to?" Jack asked.
"Harris Townsend, head of the local militia. He owns a bar called 'The Depot,' but I don't recommend going alone. They're not friendly to outsiders, especially federal agents."
The sheriff's voice trailed off as his eyes fell on the three bodies being dug up from the flower bed, his expression a mix of anger and sorrow.
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