American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop

After saying goodbye to the medical examiner, Jack and Rossi drove back to the office. Reid had already pinned up a massive map of Los Angeles in the conference room and marked the locations where the three victims were abducted and their bodies were dumped.

JJ and Emily had not returned yet, likely tied up for the day. After Jack and Rossi explained their findings from the medical examiner's office, Reid began presenting his work.

"Linda Dean was abducted in Hollywood and her body was found in Echo Park. Sherry Otto was last seen in the German District, and her body was discovered in Sherman Oaks.

The final victim, Vicky Hague, was taken from the south side of Torrance and her body was dumped in Westlake."

In addition to marking these locations with six small flags of different colors, Reid had also drawn various lines and symbols on the map that only he seemed to understand.

"This covers a huge area. Have you found any patterns?" Rossi asked, getting straight to the point as he sat down in a chair.

"The killer hasn't struck in the eastern downtown area yet. If they have a geographic preference, that area might be outside their plan, or it could be their final target. But what worries me is that the killer might not have any particular inclination towards specific locations and could be choosing them entirely at random."

"What makes you think that?" Jack asked, understanding that Reid's theory meant they might be hunting for a killer operating randomly in a metropolitan area of around 13 million people—a daunting task.

Reid pulled out several photos of the dump sites. "Notice something about all of these dump sites—they're all literal garbage dumps."

This was something the others had also noticed earlier. The bodies were found either in trash bins or in filthy, abandoned areas littered with broken sofas and discarded mattresses.

"What I mean is, the killer is acting without any real discretion or planning. Whatever he does to the victims, once they're dead, they're discarded like trash."

"So you suspect that this seeming carelessness isn't part of a carefully laid plan, but rather pure coincidence?"

Rossi summed up Reid's thoughts. This could be considered good news. If the killer was acting so recklessly, even though they cleaned the bodies thoroughly, they would inevitably slip up at some point.

"Anything else?" Jack asked, moving closer to the map and noticing that Reid had drawn several routes.

Reid hesitated slightly this time. "I'm not sure if this is meaningful, but all three dump sites are located between the 110 and 405 freeways, near the intersections of the 5 and 10 freeways."

Jack studied the lines Reid had drawn, and a sudden idea flashed through his mind. "Have we overlooked the victims' modes of transportation?"

Acting on the thought, Jack pulled out his phone and sent messages to JJ and Emily, asking if they had learned anything from the victims' families about how the victims typically traveled. Emily called back quickly.

"Linda Dean's family said she usually took the 'Red Line' home after work, but on the night she disappeared, she didn't leave work until 1:05 AM."

Linda Dean worked as a bartender, so getting off at 1:05 AM was normal. However, the Los Angeles subway system stops running at 1:00 AM.

The "Red Line" Emily referred to is part of Los Angeles's metro system, specifically the B Line. The city has six metro lines, labeled A, B, C, D, E, and K. The B Line—also known as the "Red Line"—runs from Union Station in downtown Los Angeles to North Hollywood, with a total of 14 stops along the way.

Given the timing, Linda clearly missed her regular subway.

"She wouldn't have walked home, right?" Rossi said, though he immediately realized how foolish his comment was. While the areas along her route weren't particularly dangerous, this was still Los Angeles, the "City of Angels."

A young, attractive woman walking alone through the streets of Los Angeles in the early hours of the morning? The odds of something happening were slim to none.

That left only one obvious answer. "A taxi. I'm going to find Garcia!" Jack said, turning to leave the conference room, with Reid quickly following.

"Chloroform is regulated. It's much easier to track than methanol, so I'll ask Garcia to see if anyone has recently bought or stolen large quantities of chloroform from any chemical suppliers."

The two took the elevator down to Garcia's small office.

In terms of workspace, Garcia had one of the best setups. Her office was bigger than both Rossi's and Hotch's combined, and the cost of her hardware equipment was likely several times higher than what Jack had in his personal arsenal.

When the two knocked and entered, Garcia's pudgy fingers were flying across the keyboard as she enthusiastically chatted with someone online.

"Garcia," Jack's voice startled her, and her bright blue eyeshadow and deep red lipstick gave him a slight shock.

Although they were used to her constant switches between punk and geek styles, her ever-changing outfits still managed to provide some visual surprises.

"What can I do for you, my dear knights?" Garcia turned off the chat window and spun her chair around, her demeanor that of a queen addressing her subjects.

Jack walked over, gently turning her chair back around and placing her hands on the mouse. 

"Please, sweetheart. It's urgent. I need you to check which taxi companies were operating around the bar where Linda Dean worked at the time of her disappearance."

Unlike most other American cities, Los Angeles has designated taxi stands where drivers wait for passengers, rather than picking them up from random street corners.

"Hollywood, right? Easy peasy." Garcia took less than five minutes to pull up a list of seven taxi companies that operated in the area.

"Uh, can you narrow it down further? See if any of those cabs logged rides after 1:00 AM near the bar that night," Jack requested.

"This isn't difficult, but it'll take a little time," Garcia's fingers blurred as they danced over the keyboard.

Soon, she came back with some troubling news. "None of the drivers from those seven companies picked up any passengers in that area at that time."

Jack rubbed his temples in frustration. "Is it possible they picked someone up but didn't turn on the meter?"

"Impossible. Every taxi has GPS tracking, which is shared with various ride-hailing apps. There were no taxis in the area at that time, not even Uber."

"Could it have been a 'gypsy cab'?" Reid suggested.

A "gypsy cab" doesn't refer to a taxi driven by an actual Romani person but is a term used for all illegal, unregistered taxis, also known as "black cabs."

"There are about 2,300 licensed taxis in Los Angeles, but there are just as many unlicensed ones. These black-market cabs are painted to look like the real deal, roaming the streets unnoticed.

Even if someone got into one of them, no one would think twice," Reid rattled off the statistics effortlessly.

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