[CM] THE CASE

It is impossible to understand the mysteries of life without overcoming a little fear every day. — Emerson

A team of well-trained police officers with live ammunition lined up in the underground car. Morgan lowered his center of gravity and stared straight at the door of the small house. Gideon was beside him, nodding at him, beckoning a small party around to the back door.

Morgan took a deep breath and yelled, "Open the door! FBI!"

no respond.

Reid and he stood guard on either side of the door, exchanging glances.

"FBI! Open the door!"

There was no movement.

Morgan kicked open the dilapidated wooden door, and the soldiers were divided into three groups. One team searched on the second floor, the second team followed him to the living room, and the third team went to the basement.The hut was instantly overwhelmed by reports one after another: "No one!"

The muzzle of Morgan's gun was drooping, and the coffee table in the living room was covered with a thick layer of dust, apparently no one had lived there for a long time.He turned around and shook his head with Reid who had just come down from the second floor. The latter had red eyes and gritted his teeth when he spoke: "This is a trap."

Griffith's emergency call was real, but the number was fake.He could have gone through a web proxy, or he could have simply reversed the phone line so Garcia couldn't figure it out.

"I'm..." He closed his eyes and pinched his temples fiercely, "I found the camera in the entrance...he saw it."

Gideon came in through the back door with a serious look: "He must know."

The FBI couldn't have come in for no reason, it was a trap, a trap set for Griffith.

Reid dared not look back.The camera was right behind him, and he couldn't imagine anything that was happening over there. Morgan was so angry that he wanted to shoot the camera.

"Seal this place." Gideon ordered, "Turn off the camera and send it to the lab, collect all the physical evidence, Reid you...Morgan, take him out."

"..."

"go out!"

Morgan's muscles tensed. Reid is more obedient than him.He stretched out his hand and tugged at the black detective, motioning him to leave together.

"It won't help if we stay." He was angry and anxious, and his mixed thoughts almost overwhelmed his rationality. Under the crisis, his rationality became stronger than ever. Can make room for a logical and clear analysis: "Foster's time is running out, the two of us will disturb Gideon's thoughts. I don't know what the attitude is, I think at least so far, the suspect has no malice towards Foster, will not hurt him..."

Morgan gave him a grim, angry look, and Reid swallowed back the "but I'm not sure right now." Morgan broke free from his hand, every step seemed to be stepping on the suspect's bones, wishing he could crush him into a puddle of flesh.

Jason sighed.

He looked at the monitor with a black screen, shut it down slowly, got up, and put the office chair back in place.He even tidied up his cuffs in the mood, picked up the mobile phone on the table, and made a call.

"Yes, bring her here." Jason said, "No, there's no rush, you can wait a while, I'm not ready either."

"Ok, I know."

"sorry to bother you."

"John Walker is already in the interrogation room," Emily said. "Are you ready?"

Hotch looked down at a landscape painting.

He brought it from John Walker's house, signed "JG" in the corner.At first, he only thought it looked familiar, but just after seeing the scene photo posted by Rossi, he realized where the painting was—the place where James was dumped.

According to the test results, the completion time of this painting was three years earlier than James' death. At this time, James Griffith had not returned to China. This "JG" could not be him, it could only be Jason.And why did Jason draw a remote place?Is this really just an ordinary landscape painting?If yes, then why didn't SallyNelson know about the painting?There was no way Sally hadn't been to John Walker's house before she went blind, unless he hid the paintings on purpose - why would he hide them?

"Leave him alone," Hotch said. "Let Conner bring over the evidence that suspects him. This man has a formal legal education and is more difficult to deal with than the average criminal. Emily, you come in with me later."

Emily nodded: "Understood."

Hotch suddenly asked: "Has the CSI checked the blood reaction?"

Emily was stunned for a moment before realizing that he was asking about the painting: "I checked, but there is no response."

"No response..." Hotch pondered for a moment, "Where are the fingerprints?"

"Only John Walker's."

Hotch tapped the table.

There is no fingerprint, no DNA, and no problem with the test, so why did Walker hide... Wait, these things need professional equipment to check them out, Walker doesn't need to avoid Sally, what he wants to hide must be visible to the naked eye .The biggest secret in his life is that he has a darker shadow than others, and this painting may prove the relationship between the two of them.

But how to prove it, how can we really take him down?

"Did Garcia find anything?"

"Uh, John Walker took a minor degree in art when he was in college?" Emily said awkwardly, "Before that, he had never shown any interest in art. Excellent."

Art? Hotch instantly thought of the various decorations in Griffith's house, and blurted out: "Who is the artist that J.J. said?"

"Ah? He's very private..." Emily suddenly understood halfway through her words, "You suspect that all those things came from Jason? It's difficult to track down."

"Even if he finds a substitute, the operation behind it will not be perfect, there will always be witnesses. If there is not enough manpower, tell Conner that the water is deep here, and it may involve art smuggling or money laundering. Nelson estimates that it can be established. A task force."

The corners of Emily's eyes twitched - why is it getting more and more complicated?

And Hotch gave her a cryptic look, and Emily immediately understood: "Understood."

"Go."

Griffith tilted his head drowsily, avoiding Jason's hand. Jason didn't think it was disobedient, but lightly dipped the wet cotton on his chapped lips, and whispered, "Want to drink water?"

The screaming on loop died down for a moment, but the feeling was etched in his brain, restless.He has been struggling with this pain since he was a child, and he is almost integrated with it, just like the old fisherman in "The Old Man and the Sea", who believes that "man cannot be defeated"-although he is very fond of "being defeated". Defeat" has no concept, and has never won.

"I'm disappointed," Jason said in the tone he would say to a erring pet dog. "I'm really trying to trust you, Foster."

Griffith closed his eyes.In the case of blindness, he still likes to close his eyes, as if in this way he can deceive himself into thinking that he can see the light when he opens them. Jason was stabbed by his refusal to cooperate, and he was rarely angry.

"Well, this is your choice." He put the water glass aside, turned around and said to someone: "Bring it in."

Griffith's nerves tensed for a moment.

He heard whimpers belonging to the little girl, as if being dragged and strapped to a chair.The girl even cried out weakly, and her voice may have been hoarse from crying. Griffith jerked his head up, realizing what Jason was trying to do: "You…you dare?"

Jason asked back with a smile: "Why not? I'm a sociopath. To me, there is no difference between people and animals." He asked people to leave while talking, and poured the drugged water into Griffith with his own hands. mouth, forcing him to swallow.Then, he untied Griffith, carefully applied medicine to his worn skin, and led him to the girl's side.

"Her name is Lucy, seven years old, Asian, black hair, um, very similar to you." Jason squeezed his wrist, and slowly stroked the girl's hair, eyes, and chin as he described.The girl tried to escape in panic, but her head was stuck tightly, leaving no room for movement.

"She likes the piano, do you?"

"No…no…" Griffith murmured.

"I also like cats." Jason whispered in his ear, "Cats? That kind of soft, warm little animal, how much like her..."

Griffith flinched at the familiar touch as the hand stroking the girl was transferred to the cold metal—it was a scalpel.

"Have you ever performed a vivisection?" Jason asked. "Have you ever tortured anyone?"

Griffith struggled frantically, the sharp blade accidentally cut himself, Jason exerted more strength to restrain him, and heard this unyielding man pleading: "Please, let her go...kill me... …You killed me……"

"Death is a gift." Jason shook his head, "Come, let me teach you."

"Gideon."

Gideon stood in the doorway of the abandoned children's room, and was brought back to his senses by Morgan's voice.He asked without thinking: "The photo is posted in the children's room, isn't it?"

Morgan let out an "ah" but didn't react: "Did you say safe house? Yes."

"Children's room..." Gideon pointed at the room, "Does this look familiar?"

The children's room was almost identical to the safe house, Morgan frowned: "You mean?"

"His childhood was traumatized, and he probably had extraordinary fantasies about that period, and Griffith, in theory, is his younger brother." Gideon looked at him gravely. "He can take some solace."

"Where is the address where the fire happened? The story he wants to relive should be there."

The author has something to say: I'm so tired, I don't want to write about perverts...